


Familiar Pain

by Mari_UC



Series: JayTim - Just a Nightmare [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:46:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_UC/pseuds/Mari_UC
Summary: The Bat Family is used to having one of their own hurt and in need of medical attention. It doesn't makes it easier. If anything, it becomes harder. What if this is the time? The one time they fail?It's considerably harder when the source of the hurt is not the Mission. Not some major plot to destroy Gotham, and them getting hurt is the only way to stop it. It's significantly worst when the source of the pain is an accident, an insignificant, irrational, random twist of fate.After all, how can you train yourself so that nightmares don't happen?Sequel to Just a Bad Nightmare





	1. Bruce's POV

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a multi-chapter sequel to Just a Bad Nightmare. It can be read independently, though I would recommend reading the previous story first.
> 
> This story will have different chapters focusing on different character’s POV, as the story moves through the span of a week. It has some emergency, medical, psychological and general health descriptions, though I am not a professional on these fields, so I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies. 
> 
> This is Bruce's POV, and starts at the end of Just a Bad Nightmare

Following the body’s sensory perception of an external stimulus, the brain initiates an automated process: the amygdala triggers a neural response in the hypothalamus, followed closely by the activation of the pituitary gland which secretes the adrenocorticotropic hormone, which in turn orders the adrenal gland to release epinephrine and then cortisol. After that, the body starts experiencing all biological and cognitive reactions usually associated with a fear response.

These are all biological processes. He knows these processes. He has studied them.

Thanks to Crane, he’s become quite familiar with all of this terminology.

Thanks to _Scarecrow_ , he’s become quite familiar with the biological and cognitive processes.

Thanks to Batman, he _mastered_ fear.

The infamous _fight-or-flight_ _response_. The body’s innate reaction to any fear stimuli. It was simple, four steps: External stimulus, sensory perception of the stimulus, cortisol release (to build energy), and epinephrine and norepinephrine release (to foster muscular action).

So, rationally, he can dissect and understand all the components of his reaction tonight:

There was an _external stimulus_ : **A scream in the middle of the night**.

His body _perceived_ that stimulus through his senses: **He heard it and waked up**.

His adrenal gland _released cortisol_ (to build energy): **His heart rate increased and his body felt a bolt of electricity**.

His HTPA axis flooded his brain with _epinephrine and norepinephrine_ (to initiate muscular action): **He jumped out of bed and ran towards his door**.

It’s Biology. Simple. Understandable.

...

Of course, that’s not quite accurate.

Because, while that’s the biological machinery of fear; while he understands and controls his _fear_ and while he’s able to fight some of Scarecrow toxins -even through sheer willpower sometimes-; tonight, his reaction has a lot more than _just biology_.

Tonight, he’s not going against Scarecrow. He is not Batman fighting Gotham’s psychos.

Tonight, he’s Bruce Wayne.

Tonight, the stimulus is not a generic scream. He’s not fighting of faceless hordes of demons that populate his nightmares. Tonight, what awakes him is his son’s scream, a desperate howl for help coming from his son’s throat.

So, he’s not able to rationalize the way his heart stops, freezing him as his ears pick that particular sound.

He can’t rationalize the lightning suddenly taking over his body as he tears his sheets apart and jumps towards the door, unhinging it in his wake.

Tonight he’s an instinctual machine, an animal caught in its primal instincts. A lion responding to his cub’s cry.

Because that wasn’t just any scream calling Bruce for help.

It was _Jason’s_.

And that terrified Bruce beyond reason; because out of every one of his sons, Jason was the unlikeliest to scream his name in anguish, in fear.

So tonight, running through the uselessly long corridor that separated him from his cub, Bruce’s only thought was that Jason needed him, and he needed him **now**. So he needed to be fast and get to him. It was all that mattered.

A small part of his brain, whatever rational recess still existed within him, was telling him that he needed to be more aware of his surroundings. That a door had opened to his right. That the shadows were extending beyond his reach and he needed to be aware of it. That danger was probably present around him, and he should be paying attention to it or he wouldn’t be able to help Jason.

But right now, Bruce neglected that part of his brain. Right now, Bruce needed to see Jason. Threat assessment could wait until he was at arm’s length of his son, when he could see that no danger would come to him... To any of his kids.

Finally, after what felt like minutes of sprinting, Jason’s room came to view. His door was opened, and a body was standing just inside of it. Bruce felt a tiny sense of relief wash over himself at recognizing the profile of his son. At least he was standing. That was something.

He forced his body to reduce his maddening race in time to turn at the doorframe and take the sight of the room.

Whatever sense of relief there was, evaporated from his body as a deep cold fear took a hold of him. He walked one step into the room still refusing to completely comprehend the sight in front of him.

Bruce _felt_ his brain fail him. He felt the fear take hold in a cold embrace that stopped his heart painfully in his chest and caused the blood in his veins stop. He felt his chest muscles contract causing a small sound to be generated in this lungs, but die as his vocal cords grew heavy against his throat.

And while his brain focused on registering all those sensations; it struggled to _process_ was his eyes were perceiving. He couldn’t think of anything. His mind was blank. A small part of his brain was screaming at him, but he couldn’t really process it, because he was standing there, in front of the body of his son.

The _stabbed_ body of son.

Lying on his bed. _Stabbed_.

Covered in blood. _Stabbed._

_Stabbed._

So, he couldn’t process anything.

And that little part of his brain that was screaming, silently wishing he was Batman fighting against Scarecrow. At least when he was going against his fear toxins Bruce could _think._ Right now, he found himself frozen. In front of his _stabbed_ son.

Frozen.

Like he had been, when his son was killed by the Heretic.

Like he had been, when he saw the cabin explode with his son inside of it.

Like he had been, in that alleyway, when his father and his mother had fallen, like puppets with their strings cut.

 _Frozen_.

_…_

_‘God, please, not this. Not again.’_

It was the first conscious thought that came to his mind.

Then, not even half a second after coming across the sight of his son, a body clashed against him from behind.

And just like a machine that is smacked to be forced back into working, his brain _rebooted_. He wasn’t a little child in front of his parents.

He wasn’t going to let another one of his children die.

_He wouldn’t._

He was the fucking Batman. So, he needed to _act_ like it.

_‘Percussive maintenance. Turns out it works.’_

He took a breath and in a second he focused on his heartbeats, trying to reduce them. _First, take the scene in; then list the priority actions and assign the resources needed to conduct them._

He trained his eyes on the room. ‘ _The scene. Right.’_

 _Jason’s room. A roughly 420 square ft. room, scarcely decorated, scarcely furnished. Only source of light is the moonlight coming from the window. ‘Not enough light’._ He turned on the light. He heard a gasp behind him and footsteps behind that. _Not now. Focus on them later. The scene. The body. Assess the case._

_A queen’s bed. Tim’s laying in it. His body is laying upwards on the right side of the bed. His legs are bent at the knees, both feet bent under his body pointing to the right side, towards the door. His back is lying flat on the bed, and there is an object on his belly. A dagger, with an ivory hilt._

_Jason’s Dagger._

_The dagger is slightly tilted in an angle, forming roughly a 60 degrees angle with his belly. Defensive wounds are seen in Tim’s hands, he was holding the blade; he had been stopping the blade. His chest…_

_His chest is rising. Slowly._

_‘He’s breathing.’_

Batman stopped his assessment and looked up to Tim’s face. His eyelids were closed, but the strains on his eyes and the wrinkle in his nose told him he was conscious. Barely.

_He needs urgent medical attention, probably chirurgical. This has become top priority. Assess later. Act now._

This was a serious wound. He would need help, Alfred could only do so much. He turned to see his eldest standing next to him. His horrified expression told him he was close to enter into an outward emotional response to his fear. He couldn’t let him, he needed his help. He was a valuable soldier and he was needed for a mission.

“Dick” he called, but the boy just stood there staring at Tim. For a second, the wetness in Dick’s eyes and the slightly ajar trembling lips caused an urge for Bruce to comfort him. He squashed the feeling. _Not now. Tim needs medical attention._

“Dick” he said again, a little harsher. When it was obvious he wouldn’t get a reply, he switched tactics.

“Nightwing” he said in his grave _work voice_. Immediately the man next to him shook and turned to see him. Bruce saw a hint of hurt and betrayal in his eyes, but mainly, he saw recognition. He’d gotten his soldier back. He would deal with the emotional baggage later.

_Whoever said instrumental conditioning didn’t work was a fool._

“You need to contact Leslie. She’s probably still at the clinic. Take the Batmobile and bring her here.”

Dick looked at him, and Bruce felt a little annoyance at not being immediately obeyed “I... Wouldn’t it be better to take him there?” Bruce considered it for less than an instant.

_Tim is dressed as civilian, we couldn’t appear on Leslie’s clinic as civilians and not attract attention. Any of us would be easily recognized. And there was no reason for Tim to appear suddenly with a stab wound. Nor for them to arrive in the Batmobile as civilians. Any other means of transport are too slow. And we can’t risk changing Tim into his Red Robin persona with a dagger to his abdomen._

He shook his head. “As Tim? Too dangerous.” He summarized for Dick, no need to walk him to his thought process. They could work to stabilizing him here, and have Leslie perform whatever surgery she needed in the Cave. If necessary, they could call in Dr. Mid-Nite to help.  “Go” he ordered. Dick returned his gaze to his brother before running towards the stairs. So, he had gotten medical help. Still, it wasn’t enough. He needed something more…

“Father. Should I accompany Grayson?” Bruce turned around and found his youngest standing at the door, next to him. _‘When did he…?’_ He internally sighed. _Stupid question_.

“Damian” he acknowledged him. He considered if he should try to coax him into his bed again. But Damian was looking at the scene around him with such a mix of confusion, horror and maybe a grotesque touch of fascination that should be worrying him. He briefly considered Damian’s request, before refusing. He had a more important task for him “No. Find Alfred and go to the Cave, help him set everything. I’ll take Tim down in a second.” Damian nodded and left without a second glance back.

He felt a little pride, and a lot of worry for his easy compliance. Too much of a soldier for such a young soul.

But he couldn’t digress on that right now. He walked closer to Tim. He was breathing rapidly with shallow breaths. “Tim” he said firmly “Can you hear me?” A groan and a sigh were all his replies before his eyelids fluttered opened

“’u’ce” Bruce couldn’t help the soft smile at his son’s recognition.

“Yes, Tim. It’s me. I need you to stay conscious.” He said in a soft voice. Tim seem to understand and nodded, before he muttered another word.

“J-y?”

Bruce look around and found Jason sitting on the edge of the room, looking at his trembling hands. His blood soaked trembling hands. He was probably working himself into an episodic acute stress reaction. ‘ _Later.’_ He couldn’t worry about this now. Tim’s condition was far more pressing.

“He’s fine.” He lied “We’re focusing on you now. I’m taking you to the cave. But first, I need some information, Tim. Can you calculate how long ago were you stabbed?” He asked, it was really irrelevant. The amount of blood in the bed told him it had been less than five minutes ago. But he needed Tim to stay focused on a task. He needed him conscious. “I… No. F’zy.” Was Tim’s answer.

Bruce was a little lost at Tim’s slurred words. _He shouldn’t be this inarticulate._

Unfortunately, neither he nor his children were unfamiliar with life-threatening wounds or with hypovolemic shock. It shouldn’t set this quickly, not with this amount of blood loss. He couldn’t have lost more than a quarter of blood. Yet he was already presenting an advanced level of alteration to his consciousness and he looked almost lethargic.

Something else was going on.

He looked over the room for any clue, but a sound at the door drew his attention. “Tim”. Cass was standing there, looking a little lost for a second. He thought for a second, if he should send her to help Alfred and Damian, but thought against it. He needed her here.

“Cassandra” he said calling for her. She looked at him with a questioning gaze, he wasn’t sure if she was asking for his command, or for an explanation, but didn’t dwelled on that “Bring the stretcher and the medical supplies” he said pointing at the left-most closet. All his children’s rooms had a large emergency supply closet, including a foldable canvas stretcher and an electric cooler with vaccines, anti-toxins, and a broad array of medicines. Cass hurried behind him.

Bruce moved around Tim to put him into a transfer position. He threw the sheets to the floor and grabbed Tim’s feet to straighten him. The fact that his feet were bend like this had told him a lot about what had happened tonight. He’d been kneeling when he’d been stabbed. Kneeling with his feet to his right, to the door, so he was probably looking to the left, to the other side of the bed.

_To where Jason was probably sleeping just a couple of minutes ago._

The angle of the stab also told part of the story. The knife was held in a downward angle on the right lower abdomen that hinted to an upward cut from the left side. One you would expect from a smaller adversary, or, more likely, one that was laid down.

Jason was probably sleep. _He was dreaming._

And Tim was kneeling beside him. _He moved to wake him._

Jason had probably had a knee-jerk reaction, and grabbed his Kris (‘ _the one he always sleeps with’_ ) and he’d rammed it against what his blurred mind perceived as an attacker.

_‘From his lying position, in an upwards move, to a kneeling victim.’_

Tim, kneeling at the time, had moved to avoid the attack, too surprised to do anything, he’d just grabbed the blade and cut his hands. Before falling backwards on his bent knees.

_Jason had probably turned him on his back to see the wound before calling for help._

Cass appearing on his side brought him back to the moment. He moved towards the supplies Cass brought and fished a dose of morphine and applied it. Transport to the cave was going to be painful. No need for his son to feel it in full.

Tim was already lying stretched and Bruce considered his options. Jason probably wouldn’t be able to help, and a log-roll probably would worsen the injury; so, he’ll have to transition Tim alone and pray not deepen the wound while Cass moved the stretcher under him. He crossed Tim’s arms on his chest and ordered Cass to be ready to put the stretcher on Tim’s back. “Tim, I need you to hold your arms close to your chest, can you do that?” He nodded and Bruce carefully lifted Tim from his hips and shoulders moving him to the side. Into the stretcher. Cass somehow manage to both move the stretcher under Tim and maneuver his legs so they could put Tim in place in a single move.

Tim groaned during the entire process, but held his hands crossed over his chest and his body as straight as possible. The strain on his abs probably wasn’t good for the injury, but Bruce couldn’t help but feel proud for his son, trying to ease his job, even now. Even while hurting. He briefly considered hooking some IV fluids, but decided against it, choosing instead to strap the kit to his back and taking them to Alfred. With a wound like this, extra fluids were not going to hinder the process.

“Okay, Tim. We’re taking you to the Cave. You’re going to be ok.” He said, not entirely sure if he was saying it to Tim, to himself, or to Jason and Cass. Probably to all four of them.

He signaled Cass and each took an end of the stretcher. “Jason” Cass said to him. He looked at his son. He was still sitting, with his back to the wall, looking at his bloody hands. _He’s in shock_ “Not now, Cass. I’ll come for him once Tim’s with Alfred.”

That seemed to ease her mind and they started the trek to the Cave. One that normally Bruce would make without realizing, but that today was taking too long. There were too many stairs and too many pained groans from Tim; who seemed to be in too much pain, despite the morphine.

Arriving at the Cave, he didn’t bother to glance at his workstation, he went directly to the infirmary. Seeing Alfred and Damian organizing all the medical equipment somehow eased his mind. _Tim was getting medical help. He’ll be fine._

Alfred’s face also brought a sense of relief in Bruce’s body. Alfred had never let him down. Alfred was his rock. Alfred would care for Tim and he’ll be fine. _Alfred is here._ _He wouldn’t let Tim die_.

He repeated that mantra in his mind while setting the boy on the table and moved around to aid Alfred in everything he needed. The old man started moving without a second’s waste. He moved around Tim, hooking him to a series of machines and devices to monitor his status, and put an oxygen mask on his face, before moving to tear his nightshirt and try his best to clean the blood in order to see the wound. Bruce was so absorbed looking at him, he almost didn’t registered Damian’s voice.

“That’s Todd’s blade” He turned to see Damian, as he stared back. He couldn’t read into his eyes, but he managed to find a glimmer of anger and hurt beneath the cold façade. He wondered briefly why it had taken his son so long to recognize it, but realized it was highly likely that he hadn’t actually _looked_ at Tim in the bedroom, since he was standing behind Bruce and Dick. He probably hadn’t had time to see the weapon clearly.

“Yes, it is” he replied to Damian’s non-question and the anger was more visible in his eyes as Bruce’s words made way into his brain. “Where is he?” he replied. Bruce simply stared for a couple of seconds to his youngest before replying.

“In his room” Damian was turning around, and Bruce worried for a second about the outcome of a confrontation between an angry Damian and a shocked Jason. He stopped Damian with his hands and turned to look at Cass. She was standing at the door looking intently at everything that was happening in the room. He gave her a silent plea and she nodded and turned to go to the Manor. Hopefully she could bring Jason to the Cave. “Cass will bring Jason. Right now, we should stay here.”

Damian made a displeased sound but moved to a wall to stare at them with his arms crossed on his chest. Bruce sighed, thankful to having delayed a confrontation with Jason. He hadn’t had a time to properly think about what had happened today, and he was not really prepared for that, right now. Alfred hadn’t stopped working for a second, now, he was scanning Tim’s wound with what looked like their portable ultrasound machine. To the untrained eye, he was just as focused and calmed as always, but Bruce wasn’t untrained, and his eyes were far too familiar with the sight of a troubled Alfred to recognize the signs.

“What is it?” he demanded. Alfred look up from the tablet he was looking at.

“Do we know how long until Miss Thompson will arrive?” _Deflection. That’s not good._ He looked at the computer, he hadn’t checked Dick’s status, but considering the time it might take to get to the clinic from the Manor and back… He made a quick calculation before replying.

“No. Dick went to pick her up, it might be a couple of minutes at best. Probably half an hour.” Alfred hummed and turned back to the tablet, moving the ultrasound sensor around the wound, and once again slightly furrowing his brow. “What is it Alfred? What do you see?” he asked again.

Alfred hummed again before looking up. “Is not what I see that worries me, Master Bruce; rather, what I don’t.” He passed him the tablet, and Bruce looked at the gray sonograms, he quickly identified the blade and the tissue around it. Alfred kept talking. “I don’t see too much blood on his clothes and body, nor any damaged arteries or veins. I only see a nick on the boy’s intestines. And while definitively worrisome, and in need of proper medical attention, probably surgery…” Alfred had pointed at the place where effectively he could see broken tissue in the organ, and what looked like a flow of bile from the intestines into the abdominal cavity. It looked dangerous enough to him, but he was starting to understand Alfred’s point. “I don’t see a reason for Master Timothy’s state from this wound.” Alfred finished.

Bruce remembered how, a couple of minutes earlier he was wondering about Tim’s lack of consciousness based on how little blood and time had passed since he was injured. He told this to Alfred who hummed and looked at Tim’s face. Bruce’s eyes, instead, focused on the blade. Jason Todd’s Kris. Damian seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion as he took a step forward and said “Todd’s blade was a gift from Mother”.

Bruce nodded and voiced the agreed diagnosis. “Poison”. It was most likely. Jason was highly versed on poisons around the world, and perfectly immune to most of them. Not to the point of Damian, or maybe Cass, but a close third. Tim wasn’t. Out of all his sons, Tim was the one with the least developed immunity poisons, despite how often he and the League clashed.

It wasn’t just his lack of Assassin training. It was also his lack of a spleen. Conducting a long-term immunity program without a spleen was too dangerous. Which also meant poisoning was a real threat to him. More so than any of them.

“It would appear so.” Alfred’s voice brought him back to the present. He seemed to be considering his next step carefully, but the conclusion took Bruce by surprise. “I’m removing the blade”, he announced.

“What? Alfred that’s not…” Bruce started to complain. He knew that removing the blade without the surgeon present would most likely reduce Tim’s timetable, not only were they risking worsening the injury, the pressure of the blade could be holding an internal opening closed. Tim’s condition could worsen in an instant. He was about to said this when Alfred interrupted.

“While I normally appreciate your input, Master Bruce. I don’t think I would have remind you, that of the two of us, you’re not the one with a medical degree and field medical experience.” He flinched at Alfred’s disappointed tone.

Alfred seemed to read him as perfectly as always, as he quickly added in a more conciliatory tone “I’m aware of the risks, but if we can have a visceral surgery in under 30 minutes, as it stands, the wound is the least of our problems. You’ll need the blade to properly identify the poison and prepare the antidote.” He said, and Bruce had to agree with him. While he could run tests on the blood and a swap of the dagger, taking a sample from the blade risked injuring Tim as much as it would removing it, and it would certainly make anything more easy if he could just put the whole blade on the spectrometer.

He nodded, and he saw Alfred preparing to remove the blade. “Master Damian, please hand me the hemostatic gauze. Master Bruce, if you please…” He quickly understood Alfred’s instruction and grabbed the sensor, holding its position and turned the tablet so that Alfred could see how he should remove the blade. Damian was standing next to Alfred, already tearing open the package of combat gauze and unrolling a considerable piece for Alfred to press into the wound.

“I am going to remove the blade, Master Bruce, I need you to try your best to follow the blade out, but do not move the sensor too much, or I’ll lose sight of the veins. As soon as it’s out, Master Bruce, you will take it, leave the sonogram on the table and grab the suction tip and try to keep the wound as dry as possible, there will be a lot of blood. Master Damian, once the knife is out you will pass me the gauze and grab the water tube and wash the wound. Try not to let water into the cavity, just the skin around it. Once is washed, and Master Bruce has gotten as much water and blood as you can I’ll put the gauze and start to apply pressure. Understood?” Alfred said, in a calm firm tone, looking at each of them as he gave the instructions. Bruce looked to his right, to the blue portable suction unit Alfred had set next to him. He nodded and so did Damian.

Alfred looked again at the sonogram before carefully grabbing the hilt of the blade. During their transport, and while Tim laid there, the blade had slowly moved from being in a downward angle to practically rest on Tim’s navel. Alfred quickly but carefully slid the blade out, and Bruce did his best to follow the path.

Alfred had warn them that there would be blood, and Bruce had seen many wounds before to know how much the red color and the metallic smell made a wound look worse than it was. But still, seeing it in his son was enough to send a message of alert to his body. _Maybe Alfred had touched an artery, maybe they’d made a mistake removing it._

He didn’t have time to ponder on those questions, as the blade finally left Tim’s body and Alfred handed it to him.

Bruce took it and put it away with the ultrasound, while he grabbed the suction tip. Damian was already washing the blood away and Bruce started sucking all the liquid from Tim’s abdomen. Alfred signaled Damian to stop pouring and Bruce moved as close to the wound as he dared, in order to get as much blood as he could before Alfred would put the gauze and start applying pressure to the wound.

After his mentor started pressing, Bruce turned off the suction machine and focused on the blade. He needed to conduct tests right away, he was about to ask Alfred if there was anything he needed, but the old man beat him to it. “Go, run your tests, Master Bruce. I’m sure Master Damian and I will prove to be enough to care for Master Timothy until more appropriate help arrives.”

After receiving a brief nod from Damian, Bruce took the knife and went to the Lab. He needed to figure out what compound was. He quickly scrubbed some of the blood into a petri dish and place it in the NMR spectrometer. And put the blade in the general unit, so that it could run a full scan. It would take a couple minutes, but he should get a detailed chemical composition. He added the data of Tim’s blood chemical composition to the computer, in order to filter only the information about unknown compounds.

It took him a couple minutes to get the machine going, but after that, he was free again. He considered going to help Alfred, but decided against it. Instead, he turned to the Computer and turned it on, to see where Dick was going. He turned on the locator of the Batmobile and after a second, the computer located the car… At the Cave. ‘ _What?’_

He turned around quickly and, sure enough, there it was: the Batmobile. Parked in the same spot he always left it.

He turned his head around to see if somehow he’d missed Dick’s and Leslie’s arrival, but he couldn’t found them. _Had he really missed the Batmobile, when he’d gone to the lab. Had it really been parked there the whole time?_

And more importantly… _What had Dick taken, then, to bring in Leslie?_

Bruce sighed, a suspicion growing in his mind. Hoping to be mistaken, he looked up. ‘ _Yeah._ _Batwing’s gone.’_

“Damn it, Dick.” He cursed out loud, facing again to the computer and turning the locator on the Batwing. It was currently standing above Gotham. Stationary. He turned a communication channel. “Nightwing, do you copy?”

“Batman, I’m here. I’m already at the clinic picking up Dr. Leslie. What happened? Is Red Ok?” He could here Dick’s anxiety on his voice. Bruce imagined the young man had to be scared out of his mind. Of all his children Dick was the one closest with all his siblings, and, more importantly, the only one not damaged enough to actually let it show. He decided to answer directly, and reduce Dick’s anxiety.

“Red’s fine. A is taking care of him right now.” He looked at the unmoving dot. He was hovering above Leslie’s Clinic. “What’s you’re ETA?” he asked.

“Had a little set back, but we should be there in ten minutes. Tops.” He could hear Dick’s uncertainty in his voice.

“Set back?” he asked, although he imagined what it was. Taking an airplane seemed like an obvious choice if you wanted to go fast from one place to another, and the Batwing certainly was a fast jet. However, jets weren’t particularly designed to pick up passengers mid-flight. It was excellent if you wanted to jump into action, or drop objects for ground troops. But, picking up a Doctor in the middle of Gotham… no, you don’t take a jet to do that.

His suspicion was confirmed with Dick’s next words. “No way to park.” Bruce simply hummed and asked the next question. “How’s Leslie boarding the Wing?” Logic dictated Dick would have to let the plane on Hover mode and go back and pick her up. Probably from a line to the terrace. She was too old and too inexperienced to try and jump into an open cargo door. But then again, Dick wasn’t precisely acting logically tonight, or he would have taken the Batmobile, as he’d told him to.

“She’s getting to the terrace, I’m picking her from there.” Bruce’s brow was furrowed again.

“She wasn’t already there?” he asked. It wasn’t like Leslie to make one of them wait. _Unless…_ “Forgot to tell her I was coming by air.” Came the reply.

This time Bruce audibly sighed. He was having a hard time blaming Dick for his choices, but it was getting really hard not to be judgmental. And apparently Dick heard the judgment.

“Look. I _know_ , ok. Bad choice. I get it. Just… Can you, not be _you_ right now? I’m scared out of my mind as it is, and I can’t focus on you being angry.” And he sounded scared. Bruce felt a little guilt nagging on his brain, so he decided to address it directly.

“We’re all worried, Dick. Just get here as fast as you can.” He hoped he had conveyed enough emotion to calm his son. The more worried he’d be, the worst for Tim. The line went silent for a couple of seconds, before Dick talked again. “She’s here. Nightwing out.”

The line went dead and Bruce reclined against the chair, closing his eyes for a second. ‘ _Fifteen minutes. Just fifteen minutes and Tim will have the proper medical care.’_ His heart had been beating out of control for the past… he wasn’t really sure how much time had happened.

He opened his eyes again. “Computer. Show Manor’s cameras.” The video feed of the twenty cameras surrounding the manor showed up on the screen. “Second Floor. Camera 5” he ordered. It was the camera of the hallway leading to Jason’s room. “Today’s recording; starting at…” he looked at the clock, it was 3:05 a.m.; they had to have been awake, at least for forty five minutes. He decided to play it safe. “One o’ clock.” The recording started playing and Bruce pressed the key to fast forward the recording. Suddenly he saw Jason’s door burst open and he stopped. _2:36 a.m._

 _Thirty minutes._ ‘ _God, has it only been half an hour?’_ he thought.

He usually had a good internal clock. Fear had messed it up completely. He started moving forward. He’d arrived to the door before the minute mark had even changed. The run to the hallway had surely seemed longer than 60 seconds to him.

A little under a minute later Dick was running downstairs, and a couple of seconds later Damian went down.

At the 2:37 minute mark, Cass appeared.

At the 2:41 minute mark, they both left with Tim.

At 2:49 Cass showed up again, she’d stayed at the door for a second before entering the room and disappearing from the frame.

At 3:02 she and Jason were leaving the room. Bruce froze the screen. Jason looked marginally better; though Bruce couldn’t exactly tell much from this angle. His head was down and is feet were being slightly dragged. During the second he saw them on the screen, Jason had dragged his hands against his shirt twice. Bruce noticed the blood was gone. Probably Cass had helped him wash them before leaving.

Not for the first time that night, Bruce thank the heavens for Cassandra Cain. She was a rock, and Bruce had depended on her so much tonight…

He turned off the camera, but a thought came into his mind at the last second. _If Jason was out of his shock, he could tell them about the poison on his Kris._ ‘ _I don’t need to wait for the spectrometer’_ He could just ask him. He looked up to the screens. They’d left the room three minutes ago, ‘ _Which probably means…’_ He turned around and in that precise moment Cass and Jason were coming down from the stairs.

Leaguers usually either mocked or were creeped out by his sense of timing, but really, it was more luck than skill.

“Jason” he said. He honestly hadn’t intended his voice to sound so dark, so he mentally cursed himself when he realized Jason’s spine had straightened in an instant, and both his arms and legs adopted a defensive posture.

“Bruce” he spat, in a similarly dark tone. Cass sent Bruce a dark look. She might be the one that could read body language naturally, but Bruce had no problem reading the silent threat on that look. It might have cost her a little more than he initially thought to bring Jason back here, and he _wasn’t_ about to disrupt that achievement.

Bruce sent her a small nod.

“How are you?” he asked, instead of directly questioning him about the poison. He needed to know to work on the antidote as soon as possible, but Jason was his son as well. He remembered the fear in Jason’s voice when he’d screamed; and his own fear when he’d heard that scream.

He realized suddenly how much he wanted to know the answer to that question; and how much he wanted that answer to be an honest one.

“Me?” Jason seemed taken aback for an instant before composing an unemotional face “Well, I just stabbed Tim, so… I… I’m pretty shitty right now, actually” It was Bruce’s turn to be thrown off. While Jason had started that sentence trying to act calmed and collected, he’d broken midway and had finished with a small tired chuckle. Bruce moved forward and risked putting a hand on his shoulder and was surprised when Jason didn’t moved away. He didn’t leaned towards the gesture, but didn’t batted him away. _At least I’m somewhat comforting_.

“How is he?” Jason asked, looking at him. Bruce wanted to comfort him, to tell him that he was fine, just resting a non-injury and that he’ll be on patrol tomorrow. He really wanted to tell him that he’d done no permanent damage, and everything would solve itself tonight. But he couldn’t lie to his son. Not about this. So he settled for a non-answer. “Alfred and Damian are stabilizing him”

Jason sensed his reluctance and pressed him, still, unsure and obviously begging for a positive answer “He’s… Hh… Is it… _bad_?” His broken voice was twisting Bruce’s insides; but he saw an opportunity to get the information he needed. So he focused on a more medical aspect of the answer.

“No. The stab wound wasn’t as deep as it seemed and apparently it only damaged a small part of the intestines. No major veins or arteries seemed to be affected.” Jason and Cass seemed to calm with that answer, as much as he’d calmed when Alfred had told him. Bruce took his opportunity. “Alfred’s more worried about the poison.” He added.

“Poison?” Cass asked, and Jason looked as lost as her. “In the blade” Bruce clarified.

Jason looked lost for a second before clarity showed on his face. “Ahm… a blend of henbane, corkwood’s ash and angel’s trumpet” he replied. Bruce hadn’t expected that answer. “That’s…”

“Sleeping Ash” Cass replied. Bruce wasn’t unfamiliar with the League denomination of the compound; but that mix wasn’t exactly unknown outside of the League. It was actually quite common, all of those plants had one alkaloid in common: _Hyoscine_. Commonly known as Scopolamine or Devil’s Breath.

It was a substance used to cause sleepiness and sometimes temporary memory loss. It was known for being used as a date rape drug, but mostly, it was a drug for robbery and kidnappings. In high proportions Hyoscine was quite deadly, but in the amount that could be introduced with a stab… _Probably fatigue and sleepiness. Fast breathing. An altered state of consciousness,_ _if coupled with a considerable amount of blood loss._

It did explain Tim’s symptoms.

Still, hadn’t been what Bruce was expecting.

And apparently, Jason could tell. “… You look surprised” he said. And Bruce saw how all the walls in Jason’s body were put back in place. The hand he’d still held in Jason’s shoulder was swatted away as the man stood in a defensive position again. “You thought it was something else, didn’t you? Some deadly League poison, like the Kissing Widow” He spat the words with the venom Bruce had expected to find in the Kris.

He knew the worst thing to do was antagonize Jason, and he knew that he should just let it be, and focus on Tim’s wellbeing. All he had to do, was remain quiet and ignore the jab.

Just shut up and take it...

“That blade was Talia’s” He said. Because apparently he was _pathologically_ unable not to have the last word. 

“The Kris has been _mine_ for years” Jason replied with just barely controlled anger.

Bruce just raised an eyebrow. “And it has always been covered with Sleeping Ash?” he asked knowing perfectly well it hadn’t. It couldn’t had been.

Jason didn’t missed a beat and said “It has, ever since I promised to use rubber bullets.” It was a low blow, but Bruce had to give it to Jason: It was effective.

Ever since his son had promised he’d switch, he’d done the impossible to keep that promise. Bruce knew most of it had been Tim’s influence, but still. Jason had promised, and delivered. And now, at a moment’s setback, Bruce had jumped to the wrong conclusion and launched an accusation. Unfounded.

Well. _Partially founded_.

 _‘Time to be the grown-up, Bruce.’_ He thought to himself.

“Tim’s in the infirmary.” He said, effectively finishing the conversation and moving the small party to the room. He needed to tell Alfred that there was nothing to worry about. All in all, scopolamine wasn’t the worst possible scenario as far as he was concerned. Rather mild, actually.

He entered the room to find Damian had switch places with Alfred and was currently holding the gauze against Tim’s abdomen, while the elder man was cleaning and dressing Tim’s hand wounds. Bruce had almost forgotten about those.

“Alfred” he greeted. “The compound was Hyoscine. Scopolamine” He saw the recognition on the old man’s eyes, as well as a dose of relief over the news. “One good news, then.” He muttered softly, covering one of the hands with a normal gauze. He was about to make a comment about Dick’s arrival. In his mind, it had to be less than 5 minutes away. However, his thought were interrupted by Damian’s yell.

“Todd! You… You have some nerve showing you face in this room.” Damian was red, yelling at Tod and raising one of his hands towards his brother. Everyone else in the room seemed shocked at the outburst, and Jason actually seemed a little afraid at it.

“Damian. Calm down” Bruce said, trying to defuse the situation. Alfred had decided he wasn’t to intervene in it, so he kept his focus on dressing Tim’s right hand.

Damian, apparently, felt insulted about his intervention as he turned to him now “Calm? Father,” he said before pointing his hand again at Jason “He did this. He tried to kill Drake.” Jason visibly took a step back, even though he tried to make his face as impassible as possible.

“This was an accident.” Bruce said, trying to calm Damian. He tried to look at this from Damian’s perspective. Awaken by a foreign sound, without time to canvass the scene, just knowing his brother was hurt; and then finding that the blade that hurt him, belonged to his older brother. One that had previously tried to kill said injured brother. Bruce tried very hard not to include Jason and Tim’s _other_ relationship in his assessment.

He really didn’t like to think about their _other_ relationship. Not now, not in any moment.

“ _This_ was no accident, Father.” Damian said with childish certainty. Bruce tried to play it down, and remember Damian that he’d been the one on the scene. “Damian, I worked the scene. This was an accident”

“Tt. How easy do you forget their history, Father?” He turned to see Jason, trying as best as he could to hold a neutral look on his face. It was the lowest possible blow, bringing back Jason’s previous attacks. It was bound to happen, but he’d hoped to gloss over that. Tim had decided it was water under the bridge and Bruce had tried his best to leave it at that. He briefly caught a glimpse of Jason’s face.

In the span of half a second, before Jason could realize he was looking, Bruce could see that Jason looked afraid. He could see Jason’s fear. And Bruce knew he wasn’t afraid about being caught. He was afraid Damian might have been right. He was afraid Bruce would believe Damian. ‘ _He’s afraid Tim might believe Damian.’_

And that settled his mind. “I haven’t” he answered “But, this was an accident, Damian.” He said looking at Jason instead of to his youngest. He saw something, it took him a second to recognize it as relief. Though he wasn’t sure what was he relieved about. ‘ _Does he truly think I would believe he’d tried to kill Tim?’_

The idea of Jason willingly or purposefully killing Tim hadn’t crossed his mind once all night, and evidence aside it really didn’t hold merit. Damian was probably just scared and angry. Once he’d had time to mull over the events, he’d realize it.

Whatever Damian’s reply was going to be, it was cut short by the sound of an engine coming from the ceiling.

Dick had arrived.

Dr. Thompkins had arrived.

Help was here.


	2. Dick's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All he cared right now, was Leslie coming out and telling him Tim was ok. But… It could still take some time for that to happen. So, in the meantime he might as well fulfill his role as the family’s buffer. He made his mind in an instant and decided to act before he would overthink it 
> 
> He turned to Bruce “I’m going to look for Dami.” he said. Bruce simply hummed that annoyingly emotionless sound he made and Dick took it as a:'Thank you for fulfilling my paternal duties. I hope you can convince my son not to kill my other son while we worry ourselves sick for my other, other son…'. See… crazy thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick POV

 

_5:07_

Two hours.

Tim’s been in surgery for two hours. Once he’d arrived with Dr. Leslie, she had enter the room, commandeered the infirmary and ushered everyone outside, except Alfred. After the door had been closed, no sound had come out of the place. That had been two hours ago. One hour and fifty-seven minutes. One hour, fifty-seven minutes and twenty three… twenty four… twenty five…

_‘Stop. It’s been two hours… I’m not counting the seconds. I’m_ not _turning into Wally tonight’_ Dick thought to himself.

Rationally, he had no way of knowing if two hours was too much or too little.

Irrationally, he had hoped Leslie would come out fifteen minutes after coming in and announced that Tim was fine and he’ll get on patrol tonight. Which was something that logic dictated could not happen. Not with this wound. Not with Leslie. Not to Tim.

But Dick could hope.

He had hoped.

And after the fifteen-minute mark had past three times over, he’d started typing on his phone, trying to find a good guesstimate of how long an abdominal surgery could take. Google was being infuriatingly unhelpful in providing a basis for his guesstimate. He’d browsed up to 12 pages of information with more than eight different combinations of words; he’d taken to Scholar to try and found a scientific article that might give him some lights. All he’d found was unhelpful papers on how to conduct a laparoscopy and other abdominal surgeries.

He’d briefly considered going on the Bat-computer and trying to create an algorithm that would average the times of previous abdominal surgeries in Gotham City, but… _‘No way. I’m not doing that… I’m not turning into Tim, either.’_

So, he’d remained on his chair with his phone on his hand, briefly scanning for other information about abdominal surgeries. On the plus side, he had seven brochures and four handouts on proper post-chirurgical abdominal care. He’d read them, contrasted them, and compiled a mental list of everything he would need to properly care for Tim. If- _When_ the surgery ended well.

Because it would. It _had_ to. Dick didn’t want to think about what he would do if… _No._

_It had to. Period_

He sighed and looked around. He was sitting in a chair next to the Bat-Computer, with direct line of sight to the Infirmary.

Jason was on the floor, twelve feet from him, sitting with Cass, both supported on one another. Cass was asleep with her head on Jason’s shoulder while Jason looked at the cavern’s ceiling, lost in thought. Dick had tried to talk to him, to comfort and maybe question him about what had happened, but he’d flipped him and sat silently. Cass had only moved to him about half an hour ago. Plus, she was Cass, so Jason had dealt with his feelings and let her do what she wanted.

Bruce was behind him, in the Bat-Computer reviewing files from old cases. Probably trying desperately not to think about the surgery and Tim’s condition. He envied Bruce’s ability to compartmentalize his emotions and be able to work right now. He couldn’t. He had barely been able to conduct a proper Google Search.

He knew that wasn’t fair. All bats and birds were exceptional in compartmentalizing. It was a thing the Community usually complained about them. How they were able to prioritize in the field, even when friends, family and loved ones were hurt, or worst. And he knew that, if need be, he would be able to walk away from the room right now, to answer for a crisis.

Didn’t meant he had to like it. Didn’t meant he’d be able to make the most logical decisions while in the field. Because a part of him would be here. With Tim. It probably wouldn’t affect the mission; but it his performance would definitively take a hit _. As proven just earlier today when he’d taken the Batwing to pick Dr. L._

Bruce’s wouldn’t. Even now. With Tim on bed, the man would be able to go on a mission, answer a stress call or run an operation for the League without compromising his cognitive functions or his deduction skills. The man never wavered, never froze, never faltered.

A small part of Dick envied that, whenever the larger part of him didn’t hated it. Because that same dedication usually came in detriment of his personal relationships. Namely, his paternal skills. Not that Bruce was a horrible dad. All in all, he wasn’t. Dick knew that the man tried, he tried his best. It’s just that Bruce’s best was astronomical when being a detective, and microscopic when being a father.

Maybe Dick was exaggerating. He wasn’t exactly unbiased on the matter.

He was Bruce’s first. He’d learnt a lot from his mistakes with him. He’d been a slightly better parent for Jason; then better for Tim. Then somewhat better for Damian, although Dick was still on the fence there.

Surprisingly, he’d been a far better parent for Cass. Or maybe not so much, really. That bar hadn’t been set too high… It would suck if he’d had to rank Bruce bellow Lady Shiva and David Cain in parenting skills.

Thinking of parenting…

Damian. He was the only one of them who wasn’t in the cave right now. Bruce had sent Damian away right after he’d arrived with Dr. Leslie. He didn’t knew the specifics but could make out just enough to grasp the crux of the matter. Damian blamed Jason for this.

Not that Dick could fault him. If his memory served him right (and it normally did) that had been Jason’s blade on Tim’s belly. Which means it had probably been Jason’s fault it had ended _in_ Tim’s belly. He was running with three scenarios in his mind, and had stopped thinking about it. _Let Bruce care about that._

All he cared right now, was Leslie coming out and telling him Tim was ok.

But… It could still take some time for that to happen. So, in the meantime he might as well be the family’s buffer. He made his mind in an instant and decided to act before he would overthink it and started to go into crazy thoughts. He turned to Bruce “I’m going to look for Dami.” he said. Bruce simply hummed that annoyingly emotionless sound he made and Dick took it as a: _Thank you for fulfilling my paternal duties. I hope you can convince my son not to kill my other son while we worry ourselves sick for my other, other son…._ See… crazy thoughts.

He sighed internally and moved towards the Manor. Jason turned one second to look at him, and Dick made a small gesture at him. ‘ _Let me know’._ He knew Jason would understand and his short nod informed him the message had been received and Jason would made sure Dick knew as soon as Leslie was out.

Jason turned back his sight to the cavern, and Dick knew he’d have to make the rounds and talk to Jason later, probably after Dr. Leslie came out of surgery. He doubted Jason would speak a word before he knew Tim was out of the woods. And even then, he’d probably just grunt and reply with monosyllables.

It wouldn’t be until after Tim wakes up that Jason would go back to a safely approachable version of his caustic brooding self. Maybe even better, if Tim actually manages to stay conscious for a kiss or two. Because, regardless of any reservation Dick or Damian held about what transpired this morning, Dick knew Tim wouldn’t hold it against Jason. The kid had moved past two severe beatdowns and an assassination attempt, in order to start dating Jason. And then he had started _dating Jason_ , which by Dick’s standards meant Tim was well into the path of sainthood, because the man was handful, when he was behaving.

_If only Tim were a good devoted catholic._

He snickered at his mental image of Tim’s face if he shared his thoughts with him. Kid wasn’t very expressive, but he’d made his position on religion clear to everyone. And he despised mass. ‘ _It isn’t the sentiment or the faith, as much as the ritualistic nature and the instrumentalization of mass_ ’ whatever that had meant. Dick was still trying to wrap his head around that phrase, they’d never had the chance to finish that particular conversation and Dick hadn’t brought it back up. He really wasn’t up to having a sociological debate on the impact of theology in instrumentalization of society.

He’d read Nietzsche at school. _Not. A. Fan_.

Now though, Dick regretted not knowing about Tim’s position. Not having that discussion with him. A small part of him wondered if he’d ever be able to _have_ that conversation.

He moved past those thought, he couldn’t let himself be brought down by them, not when Tim was probably going to be fine, and Dr. Leslie would take care of him. Now, he’d better focus on Damian – _And Jason–_ , and making sure the family would move forward after this with as little traumatisms as possible.

He entered the big manor and walked towards Damian’s bedroom, only to find it empty. One look at the place, told him Damian hadn’t come here. The bed wasn’t made, and the clothes for last night were still on the chair next to Damian’s bed. Both things the teen would fix as soon as he’d come back to the room, even if it was to catch some sleep.

With all the Little Prince act he liked to put, Damian was really good with daily chores, and you rarely saw Alfred having to go picking up after him. He tried the kitchen next and again, empty. However, he knew he was getting warmer. Literally. The stove was still hot, and the teapot was still steaming softly. An empty cup told him Damian had come by, eaten something, and then left. And the fact that the door to the outside was ajar, gave him a pretty good idea of where Damian was going.

The cowshed was a good quarter-mile away from the manor, Dick started on the route taking in the soft clarity of the early morning. The morning wasn’t exactly cold, which was weird given the blizzards the past few days, though, spring was fast coming, so the air felt more like a crisp draft that still carried the humidity of the night, and less like a wet promise of snow.

Walking towards the shed, he felt his shoes grow wet with the dew from the grass. He couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered about it as he took the sight of the forest to the left, letting the view of nature distract him from the constant worry in the back of his brain. It had been a while since he took time to appreciate this view of the Manor.

Most people were so fascinated by the huge gothic building, that they tended to forget about the nearly 1800 acres of outbuildings, caves, oak and pine forests and even a whole lake that composed the Manor. The lake was actually part of the Northern Gotham Reserve Park, but due to a State Act of the 18th Century, it was legally Wayne property making it one of the few state-regulated privately-owned conservancies in the country.  It helped that most members of the Wayne family had always been considered freelance conservationists, and Bruce was seen as an environmentalist, so not many people actually tried to make a move to take the lake from Bruce. Which was very fortunate, as the lake actually was connected to the Gotham River, and it doubled as a secret harbor for a couple submarines and a series of Bat-boats.

Thinking about the many beauties of the Manor, he walked into the cowshed. Damian was standing next to a pile of hay, moving it and cleaning the shed where the Batcow usually rested. He’d barely entered the place when Damian stopped and turned to look at him, expectantly. “Hi, kiddo.” Damian didn’t return the greeting, instead raising an eyebrow, they stood like that for half a second before Damian lost patience “And? Is Drake finally kicking it?”

Damian might have wanted to appear unfazed even aggressive, but Dick actually heard the fear in his voice. He also realized that coming here to look for Damian would probably seem as if he came to give the news. And since he wasn’t smiling… Yeah, he could see where Damian was coming. “Oh, no. He’s still in surgery” he said.

Damian’s mouth made a tiny oh, before tilting his head slightly and rising his eyebrow again “Then what are you doing here?” he looked straight at him. “I just came to talk” he answered “Noticed a little tension going on down at the Cave when I brought Dr. L”

Damian’s eyes narrowed and stabbed the floor with the hay fork while said “Father sent you, didn’t he? I’m not apologizing to Todd.” _Huh_. The fight had probably been worse than he thought if _Damian_ thought he’d be asked to apologize. Kid usually refused to even consider he’d been the one in the wrongdoing.

“Bruce didn’t sent me. I’m here because I think you should be down there, with the rest of us, not here alone.” He said looking at Damian and making a general gesture towards the Manor with his hands. Damian simply looked at him and turned to work again before replying “I’m not alone”

Dick looked at the cow and said “I know, and Batcow’s great company. But I meant with your family.” Damian raised an eyebrow “Your human family.” He amended.

Damian thought it for a second before shaking his head in a brief movement that Dick almost missed from the general action of throwing the hay into a bucket. “What I need” he said “is not to be anywhere near Todd. He was the one that stabbed T- _Drake_ and Father is acting like he was the victim or something” He viciously stabbed a patch of hay he was trying to put on the bucket.

Dick internally sighed. He’d been right. Damian had accused Jason of trying to kill Tim. “Dami, I don’t think…” he begin to say, but Damian turned around and interrupted him clicking his tongue. “tt. You too, Grayson? This was no accident. Drake had Jason’s Kris embedded in his abdomen.” He said, pointing the placement of the knife with his free hand. Dick was surprised to see the fire in Damian’s voice. He sounded certain of his accusation “I don’t care what Father says, this _was_ a conscious attack.” He said with a sense of finality.

However, Dick also heard something else. _What father says_... meant Bruce had already arrived to a verdict. Dick had thought that Bruce had been waiting for Tim to regain consciousness in order to get a better understanding of the events; but by the way Damian spoke of it, as if it was a given fact… and if Jason was sitting freely on the Cave and Damian was complaining about his culpability… “Bruce thinks it was an accident” he stated.

Damian looked at him angry “You are not listening to me.” He practically yelled “I know what I saw. That attack, the position of the blade, I know that move, I’ve seen it many times.” He said stomping around the shed and coming towards him. “It’s a gutting move. Down on the lower abdomen and twisting to create an opening. That’s not reflex, that’s _evisceration_.” He said that last part looking him intently in the eyes and holding his hay fork tightly.

Dick thought about what Damian was saying. An evisceration. That made the wound sound far worse than what Bruce had described to him, a clear opening that barely touched the intestines. Bruce had made it seem as a clear simple knife entry wound. Not less worrisome, nor less deadly if left untreated; but… _gutting…_ “How do you know?” he asked instead. Damian seemed to be too sure about it.

Damian looked uncomfortable with that question, but other than a shift on his feet, he continued looking at him before answering “Mother taught it to me. I’ve… I’ve used it before.” Damian’s pained and shameful voice at the admission broke Dick’s heart.

Not for the first time, he wished he could go back in time and recue Damian from Talia’s wretched hands when he was a baby, so he could give him the childhood the kid deserved. Not the merciless training that had been forced upon him. He couldn’t help the softening of his eyes, nor the quiet “Dami…” that escaped his lips.

“tt” Damian clicked his tongue again, obviously uncomfortable with Dick’s emotions, and created a mask for himself, talking calmly and secure as if he was giving a lecture “I’m shorter than most my opponents, which means I focused on attacks that bring my enemies to their knees, or that make the most damage to the lower half of the body.” He grabbed the staff of the fork as if it was his katana and pointed it at Dick “For exsanguination, a hit on the Femoral Artery, External Illiac, Lateral Sacral, Vena Cava or Abdominal Aorta.” He said poking at different places in Dick’s legs and pelvis with the stick “For a slash, the inguinal ligament stops the legs” he said moving the stick though the joint between the leg and the chest “and to eviscerate” he said looking back at Dick’s eyes “a move from the rectus abdominis, without coming to the transversus or the oblique.” He said, pointing the lower section of the abdomen, around the navel. “I _know_ that attack”

Of course, Dick knew the locations and positions of the veins, arteries and muscles Damian had listed. Mostly because Bruce had made him memorize entire medical encyclopedias in order to learn what to attack, and what to avoid. Obviously, assassin training inverted those concepts in _their_ lessons.

Damian was right, an attack on the rectus, one that affected the ligaments without touching the harder interior muscles could probably result in an easier evisceration. He stopped and internally huffed. Was he seriously considering this? The idea that Jason tried to eviscerate Tim? _And, why, God why, does a conversation with his 13 year old brother, leads him to digress about “easier evisceration” techniques?_

It didn’t mattered what the attack was _meant_ to do. Jason might once had had the training and the motor skills to perform such an attack, but he’d changed too much in the last couple of years, in the last couple of months. For him to believe Jason would purposely try to do this to Tim.  “Doesn’t mean it was conscious.” He said to Damian, grabbing the fork from him.

“Are you being serious? How do you _unconsciously_ eviscerate someone?” Damian yelled at him. And Dick had to give points to the kid for bringing his question in the most brutally honest terms. Putting it like that, it was very difficult to contest.

On the other hand, everyone in their family had a very dangerous weapon for a body. They had been trained to respond with extreme violence to unexpected attacks. Granted, not deadly violence, but still. He’d forgotten the amount of times he’d landed a hit on Star, Wally or Babs, and let’s not forget the one glorious time he’d actually broken Roy’s nose because he’d tried to surprise him when he was sleep. Wally and Donna hadn’t let him live it down for months.

But, unlike him, Jason wasn’t just trained to incapacitate; he was trained to kill. As was Damian. With the added bonus that he pretty much had a severe undiagnosed and untreated case of PTSD. T from the ‘ _being-killed-by-homicidal-psychotic-clown-and-then-brough-back-to-life-by-a-mysthical-pool-and-an-assassin-sect-bent-on-killing-your-father_ ’ kind of Traumatic. With a cosmic intervention and a whole lot of crazy thrown in the mix for good measure. So yeah, ‘Trauma’

God, it was a miracle Jaybird was able to function, let alone be a superhero. Antihero. Whatever. A force for good in society. Tim’s sainthood was practically guaranteed for dealing with that kind of baggage and still manage to make it work with Jason in a relationship that could present itself in a Disney-special. Because, Red Hood might be the grumpy scary badass that makes criminals pee themselves even more than the Bat, but _Jason_ ; Jason was a fluffy Care Bear when Tim was around him.

He didn’t show it. Of course he didn’t. Let alone in public. But Dick had been able to see Tim and Jason when they thought they were alone. Just a couple days ago, they were in the Manor because a blizzard had hit the city (and, no way, any of them were going out in the middle of _that_ snow storm), so each took to their rooms. Dick had wandered around and found Tim laying on a couch with his feet raised on the armrest and his head on Jason’s legs; while Jason read to him some old book, with voices and everything. Tim had had his eyes closed and was making little noises, reacting to Jason’s narration. And Jason, had his book open in one hand, while the other caressed Tim’s chest.

In the beginning of their relationship, Dick had had trouble believing Tim and Jason to be nothing more than a physical thing. Both finding comfort in each other. He didn’t liked it, and had had a lot of trouble imagining them together, mainly because they were _his baby brothers_. Even if they didn’t considered themselves to be so; Dick saw them as his younger siblings. So seeing them together was, at best, as seeing two cousins going at it. _No, thanks._

But moments like those, seeing Tim fully relaxed and comfortable with another human being. And Jason being openly caring and sweet. Those moments made Dick realize that they were serious about their relationship. That they were in love.

Jason, _that_ _Jason_ , wouldn’t – couldn’t have tried to eviscerate Tim. He looked at Damian who had noticed the fact that he’d gone down to memory lane “He might not been trying to…” he replied, but again, Damian cut him.

“You’re not listening, Grayson” he yelled. “He tried to kill him” Damian said coming closer and pushing him to force him to release the hay fork “He’s tried to kill him before. Several Times. Much more brutally, than this.” Damian said. And that was true. Dick knew that. The Family knew that. Hell, everyone in the hero community, and even some villains knew that. It was the reason most Titans still hated Jason.

“That was in the past, Dami.” He said, trying to impress a tone in his voice that indicated that he didn’t wanted to continue this argument “That was before Jason could overcome his anger and his bloodlust. Before he tried and meet the real Tim. Before he fell in love with him.” He said. Damian had huffed at the last part, so he added “He did, Dami. No one’s that good an actor.” And it was true. Jason was really in love with Tim. No question about it.

Damian, however, didn’t seem to want to even consider it. “You are a fool if you think…”

“No” he said, it wasn’t a disregard for the evidence, it wasn’t about what he thought… “I have faith in Jason” he said to Damian.

His brother just rolled his eyes “Great, an _idiot_ then.” He deadpanned as he moved to fix Batcow’s water supply.

Dick felt a smirk appear on his face at that. At least Damian had accepted that the conversation was over, so he decided to play along “There’s a difference?” he asked with a badly faked interest.

Damian didn’t seemed fazed by that, as he simply answered, matter-of-factly “A fool lacks judgment. An idiot doesn’t, he just acts stupidly.” He finished making a gesture at him, as if proving his point. Dick simply smiled at that “You just made that up, didn’t you?” he asked mockingly.

Damian huffed as he poured the water “Your birthday’s in two weeks, I’ll gift you a dictionary.” He said. Dick let a small laugh escape him at that. “I’ll look forward to it”

He stayed there in silence watching Damian work, and eventually helping him brush Batcow for a while, until his cellphone beeped. One single line. “They’re out.”

Damian didn’t had to ask, one look at each other and they both ran towards the Manor.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tim was fine.

He wasn’t, really. Objectively speaking he was far from fine. For any human standard, other than the seriously skewed and removed from reality bat-standard, he was a wreck and in serious danger.

But Tim wasn’t any human, he was a Bat. A fucking awesome Bat, if you asked Dick. And Dick wasn’t thinking objectively, he was being very, very subjective in his assessment.

So, Tim was fine. _Thank God._

Because, Dr. Leslie had come out and said the operation was successful. _Thank you, Leslie._ And Alfred came out and said the same thing. _Thanks, A._

That Tim was fine. _Fuck, yeah he was._

Ok, so _maybe_ they had said that he needed to be continuously monitored, and that there were several post-operatory risks, and that he still had to be looked after for sepsis because of an intestine thing.

But, fuck that. Fuck monitoring, and post-operatory risks, and fuck intestine sepsis. Fuck everything else. Dick was feeling elation and relief wash over him in waves, and nothing was going to take that feeling from him. Tim was _fine_. _Period_. He’d beat all the other things. Because Dick believed in his baby brother.

Alfred and Leslie were telling them about the care they would need to have, and how Tim was still knocked out, and he’d remained that way for a couple hours. Dick zoned off the instructions, it was pretty much the same he’d already gotten from his search. He looked around to see the rest of his family, and other than Bruce, who seemed to only listen the bad news in everything (so, of course he was brooding), all his siblings were sporting the same relieved expression he had. Ok, maybe Damian had a more guarded expression, and Cass wasn’t grinning like he was. And Jason… Jason actually wasn’t there at all.

_What the hell is wrong with my family?_

He mentally sighed, as he made a quick scan of the room and found Jason going to the back of the cave. _Training grounds_.

He walked towards Jason, not truly sure what he was supposed to say. Somehow ‘ _I’m sure you didn’t meant to gut your boyfriend, who also happens to be our brother_ ’ didn’t felt like a safe approach. Plus, people considering him and Tim brothers had been a sore spot for them since they started dating. _Obviously._

Jason was moving around the room, his eyes darting from place to place, probably trying to decide what to do with himself. Dick was debating with himself whether he should talk to him, or let him vent a little and come back later, when it would be less likely Jason would try to bit his head off. He sighed, he’d never been good with the _patience_ thing. When he wanted something to happen, he couldn’t sit around and wait for the _right_ moment. He wasn’t reckless, he didn’t jumped head on into the abyss, like Jason or Damian; but he wasn’t one to stay on the sidelines waiting for the _precise_ moment to strike, like Cass or Tim. He was more _eagerly cautious_. He’d come to a place, do a short stakeout and then jump into the fight and wing it in the fray, coming up in the millisecond with immediate plans for the situation at hand.

So, in the end, his eagerness won as he approached and asked with a slightly teasing tone “Feeling like hitting something, Jaybird?”

Jason turned to see him and Dick saw how he worked his plain face, although not fully and not fast enough for Dick to miss the small tells on his face that showed most of his emotions. Dick felt a backlash of nostalgia as most of those emotions brought him back to the times of teen-Jason. Of Robin-Jason. “You volunteering, Dickiehead?” Jason said matching Dick’s tone, although a little more caustic than necessary.

Dick let himself flinch and protested “Hey” he said with a little fake hurt on his voice “Just thought you might enjoy a sparring partner.”

Jason looked at him and raised one eyebrow “Look Big D. I appreciate it, but I’m more in a _let’s rip open this punching bag_ kinda vibe” he said and Dick could see the tension in Jason’s shoulders, how he closed his fists, digging his fingernails on his palms. The man had had all two hours of impossible amounts of stress working themselves in his muscles. He still had half a mind of turning back, but, that cemented his idea that Jason needed something more than violently and systematically abusing a punching bag, even if it meant Dick having his own ass violently and systematically abused.

_…_

_Ok… let’s…, let’s ignore_ that _phrasing..._

“Yeah, but the bag doesn’t talk back, and that’s, like, half the fun” he said, walking to a side table and picking a pair of boxing padded mitts and holding them to Jason wiggling his eyebrows. Jason simply huffed and walked towards him “Suit yourself” he said ignoring the gloves and going for the hand wrap “I’m not holding back” he warned.

“Didn’t think you would.” Dick answered taking off his shoes and walking to the middle of the ring. He looked as Jason got ready, also barefoot and finishing wrapping the cloth around his wrists. Dick put on the mitts and checked the padding and the internal circuitry, thinking about what kind of training could be more productive. This weren’t your traditional training padded mitts this were bat-training mitts, courtesy of WE. Actually, one of Tim’s early ideas. The mitts were covered in highly resistant touch sensors and Dick could program a certain set of training programs in them. It worked wonders on training boxing combos as the mitts would register sequence, speed and strength of the hits and give a score.

But, right now he needed something that would tax Jason and that would require him to be more focused than training old combos. The main reason he didn’t wanted Jason training on his own was that he knew the man would get on a repetitive motion, and would got lost on his thoughts. Thoughts that would no doubt be filled with worry, self-hatred and guilt. _Not good._

“Ok, Jaybird” he said looking at Jason stretching and slowly jumping in his place, focused. “Let’s test those reflexes.” It was common training with them. Dick would stand there, with the mitts as targets, and one of the mitts would light up. The idea was that Jason had to hit the mitts within half a second of the mitt lighting up. The system would register the movement and the timing of the hit, and then continue in the sequence of hits.

Jason nodded and raised his fists, keeping his legs moving as he focused on the mitts. Dick could control the timing and spacing of the training so he started with a hit on the right, and Jason responded with a quick jab from the same side. Then a left, and other two rights, and Dick started stepping up the speed between expected punches. Jason never let the counter reach 0.2 seconds. A couple minutes in, Dick moved up again the speed, this time forcing Jason to perform faster and more complicated hits in order to follow the sequences Dick was selecting in the mitts. At one point it wasn’t just punches and jabs, he had to hit the right mat with his hand, and then quickly backtrack with his elbow two times, keeping his left arm tucked in for the following succession of hits on the left.

As the sequences became more complex, Dick started to see Jason’s face go calmer and more focused and he internally smiled. He needed this. He needed to let go of the world for a second and… Dick caught a movement on Jason’s hips a couple milliseconds after it started and quickly moved his right hand to cut it. A rising kick aimed at his hips. He managed to catch the kick with the mitt before it hit and tried to use his own speed and strength to flip Jason.

_Bad Idea._

Jason was 225 pounds of pure muscle and strength, a powerhouse 50 pounds heavier than him. So all he did was nudge Jason’s leg a little higher and force him to shift his back feet a little more securely. He could see the tension in Jason’s legs to prevent the move. He didn’t had time to ponder on the stupidity of his move as a punch was coming for his face from the left.  He did not wanted to see the smug smile on his brother’s face, so he simply ducked and jumped back with a nice flourish at the end to ensure he ended in a battle ready position.

He was expecting another attack but instead he heard a chuckle and then a full short laughter “Did you just tried to flip me? With one hand?” Dick looked up to a smug and smiling Jason, for a second Dick considered going at him and show him he _could_ flip him, easily. Have him on his back on a nice turtle impression.

But, before that, he needed to answer “Well, you were hitting so softly, for a second I thought I was fighting Wally.” He said trying to get on Jason’s nerves. Dick knew Jason hated being accused of not giving it all even in training. Guy had a serious competition problem. “He’s also known to try shadow kicks like that.” He added. Because, _poor sportsmanship_.

Jason only huffed and get on a ready stance before barking “Come on. Again”. Dick would have been worried about going back on the mat, if it weren’t for the grin and the sparkles in Jason’s eyes. It was just harmless fun, really.

He looked down at the digital display on the mitts. _578 hits. Avg. Speed: 134 milliseconds_. Not so bad for an impromptu training session. “Ok. Let’s try to raise that hit number” he said raising the mitts again.

Once again, Jason went to hit the mitts with amazing efficiency. To try to keep him from kicking again, Dick started moving around him in circles, forcing him to move with him through the mat. Fairly quickly they found an easy rhythm that allowed Jason to perform quick jabs and longer hooks that took advantage of his immense raw strength but that were relatively easy for Dick to counter.

Two turns around the ring later, Dick saw his chance. Jason had just taken a step to come closer to him, and was throwing an opposite hook without any back-leg to support it. It wasn’t a hit he’d take on the field, it was the kind of carelessness that came from knowing it’s training, and knowing that the game they’re playing is about speed, not strength. But, it’s a mistake far too sweet for Dick to pass out.

So, instead of staying there and waiting for the hit to connect, Dick launched himself forward and caught Jason’s arm with both hands. The surprised face in Jason was enough for him to smile as he slid one of his hands to Jason’s shoulder and turn around so that he could support Jason’s considerable weight with his back and legs. Dick pulled from the arm and, since Jason was in the middle of a step, he was unable to support himself. Dick felt Jason’s _oomph_ on his back as he flew over him, victim of his own weight’s inertia, and falling flat into the mat.

_Perfect turtle impression._

Jason groaned loudly following the impact and looked up at him. Dick couldn’t erase the smile on his face. “There, Jaybird. Flipped.”

Jason smiled. “Did you just flipped the bird, Dickieface?” he said “What would Alfred think?” It was stupid and childish, and the fact that every Robin had said that phrase made him want to groan. But seeing Jason smile like that, he couldn’t help the smile on his face. “You are a _dork_ ” he said.

“Tim says I’m a _dork_ able” he replied, without thinking. Dick smiled, but a second later Jason’s face turned dark again, and Dick saw Jason forcing his body not to turn and look towards the infirmary. Dick took this opportunity to try to assuage Jason that all will be fine. “He’s gonna be fine, you know?” Dick repeated mentally his previous mantra. _Tim was fine_. All he needs is rest and care. Both of which they can give him.

Jason sat and looked at him scowling “Weren’t you right there with me, listening?” he replied darkly “A nicked gut, chances of internal bleeding. Septicemia, Dick. They’re worried about septicemia and Tim has no spleen. That shit could take a turn for the worst in a second.” Jason was starting to sound a little hysterical there at the middle when talking about Tim’s spleen. _And I don’t wanna think about whose fault it is that he doesn’t have one._

He decided to put a pin on that thought and come back to Jason’s reaction. “Tim’s in good hands. And, we’ll be watching.” He said as Jason stayed there sitting in the mat, _not_ looking at him, and _not_ looking at the infirmary. He was obviously unconvinced, and Dick knew better than most how hard it was for someone to convince Jason about anything other than what he already believed. “Look, we’re all here in Gotham. I don’t have plans for going anywhere, and I think neither do you.” He said, changing tactics. Give Jason something to do, something to focus on that will allow him to control the situation. “We’ll be able to keep an eye on him all the time. We can rotate the patrol schedule so that someone’s with him the whole time. He’ll be fine.” He added.

With a little bit of luck, Jason would be able to focus on making Tim better, and that would supersede his need to consider himself responsible for what had happened… And, thinking about it… what _had_ happened?

Dick looked at Jason, sitting there. Mulling over his words. Or ignoring them completely, he wasn’t sure, Jay had the second best poker face of the family after Bruce. ( _Maybe Cass... Yeah, no, third, Jason’s the third best)_ He mentally sighed, trying to focus his thoughts. This could be the moment he could finally get an account on what happened. He was obviously not intending to run away, and while emotional conversations weren’t Jason’s preferred topic ( _Emotional constipation, that’s what he’s second best at… After Bruce._ ) Dick felt like trying.

“Jay” he said softly, earning a slight turn on the neck that most would have missed. “What happened tonight?” he asked. And it wasn’t until after he asked those words out loud he felt that he actually needed an honest answer. He was tired of Bruce’s half reports on the Batwing, or Damian’s hints at an _evisceration wound_. He needed to know what had happened. He’d barely had time to process what he’d seen in the room. The only image he’d seen was his baby brother in a pile of blood while his other brother was sitting, back against the wall, caressing his bloodied hands. That was an image he was going to see starring in many of his future nightmares.

Jason breathed out softly “Dick…” he said. It wasn’t a warning. It wasn’t a plea. Not exactly. It was… something in between. A request. _I don’t wanna talk about this, leave me alone._ But Dick couldn’t do that. He couldn’t stay quiet anymore, and if he knew something about hurting your loved ones is that he needed to have this conversation now, or it would blow out of proportion later. Thankfully, they weren’t in the middle of a Gotham emergency, where they could put the feelings in the backburner and let them fester while feeling good about themselves because _the mission came first_.

“You know none of us actually blame you for this, right?” he said, hopefully cutting ahead one of the thorniest topics. Jason’s mistrust about his family’s perception of him. “Damian…” Jason said, cementing Dick’s idea that this was going to be the first hurdle he’d had to jump… well, the second, after establishing a reason to talk…

“Damian’s confused and worried. And he doesn’t know how to deal with that” He cut him. But then, this gave him an opening to a part of the story that he knew… “He… He recognized the wound. A move Talia taught to him.” He said.

Jason threw his head back a little and reclined, sitting with his arms supporting his back and his legs stretched in front of him. “Yeah” he said looking at the ceiling of the cave. He didn’t sounded guilty, more like reminiscing. About Tim or Talia Dick couldn’t tell. His face was closed.

Dick decided to press a little more. “He… He’s having a hard time believing you could unconsciously eviscerate someone. Hey, I’m quoting here.” He clarified at the end based on the dirty look Jason threw at him.

“What do you think?” he asked looking with those pacific blue eyes with specks of green burning themselves in Dick’s mind, as if trying to pry the information themselves. Dick knew that his answer here would determine if Jason would trust him with a tale of the night, or a beatdown. Or anything in between really. He’d given up on trying to foresee Jason’s reactions to an emotional conversation.

He sighed and met Jay’s stare with the most honest answer he could muster “I think there’s more to it than that. I know you, Jay. You and Tim. You guys, I don’t know how or when but you found something _good_ between you two. I don’t think you’d purposefully throw that away by trying to kill Tim. I honestly don’t think you could. I… Think you were unconscious, and just _reacted_.” He said. He was proud of how much emotion he’d managed to convey, even if Jason might not react well to it. It was also the first time he’d talked to Jason about his and Tim’s relationship as _something good_. Usually he’d just ignore it or tease them. Jason seemed to notice it, because his eyes grew a little as he said that.

Jason turned again to look at the ceiling and remained quiet for some time, just looking at nothing and Dick was tempted to follow the line of sight to see if there was something up there he just _wasn’t_ seeing. Jason’s voice prevented him from looking up, instead looking back down at his brother. “I… I didn’t. Damian’s right, you don’t do something like that on a reaction Dick.” He said.

And Dick would have reacted to that admission, had it not been for how _broken_ Jason had sounded admitting that. He considered whether he should contradict him, or just go along with it. How do you reply to an admission of guilt that feels so _guilty?_

Turns out, not replying was the right answer this time, because Jason started talking. “I… It was the _fucking_ clown. I… He was there. And then he wasn’t and…” Jason wasn’t making much sense; and not because Dick didn’t know why he was bringing up the _clown_. He could make a couple of good guesses about it, but Jason seemed to be struggling for words and he just sit again straight, and Dick walked and sat next to him, shoulders barely touching.

That action seemed to have been enough for Jason to organize his thoughts “I was having a… I don’t know. A dream, a nightmare, or whatever. I don’t remember, really. It was dark and I couldn’t see… And then I… I _felt_ him, Dick. It was _him_. The fucking Joker. I could _sense_ _him_. He… he tried to grab me, he was touching me and I couldn’t move. I felt… heavy, and his hands were in me, so I… I just grabbed the Kris and turned to him.” Dick swallowed. He could see where this was going. Of course he could. A nightmare. A fucking nightmare with the clown was what led them to this.

“It was him, Dick.” Jason turned and looked at him in the eyes and Dick could see the need for validation, the need for Dick to believe him. And he did. Regardless of how impossible, because Dick knew how real some nightmares can become. “I… I swear it was him. His hair, his nose, his _fucking smile_. I saw him and I launched at him. I… I didn’t think about the how, or the why, or the when. I just saw him. He was taunting me, he was _touching me_. So I went for his gut. I tried to twist the knife. God Dick, I _wanted_ to kill him. I wanted to see him bleed out of his gut and twist the knife into him so he would just _die_. And then… Tim said something. I don’t… I think he asked me to stop. And the Joker was gone. The warehouse, the green hair, the… everything. Like in the movies, when everything’s unfocused and then it just…” Jason clicked with his tongue and Dick knew exactly the feeling. Dick could see Jason was doing his best not to let his anger, his fear or his guilt get the best of him, but he was about to break, and Dick just put his hands on Jason’s shoulder and was a little surprised when he leaned a little against it. An eighth of an inch, but still. “It wasn’t the clown” Jason continued “it was Tim. I was stabbing Tim. I… I wanted to kill him. _I wish him dead_ , Dick.” And that was the source of the guilt.

Not just the stabbing. Not just the craziness of it all. It was the feeling he got while he was doing it. He’d been presented with a similar feeling ages ago. Bluckbuster Jr. He’d felt justified. He’d felt it was the right thing to do. And then his mind and his moral compass had kicked in. And he’d ended up working himself to rags after the Chemo attack to try to battle that feeling. That… and Tarantula.

_Don’t go there now._

He brought himself back. Jason was sitting there looking down, with a furrowed brow. Dick was about to ask him, when Jason exploded. “And why the fuck did he do it, anyway?” he asked angry, probably at himself, but Dick wasn’t sure, so he asked.  “What?”

Jason looked, and he seemed a little out of sorts, but started talking with barely concealed anger “Touching me. He knows he can’t. He shouldn’t.” he said gesturing and standing up “We’ve talked about it. He talks to me. That’s how he anchors me. His voice. He…” he started walking and Dick suddenly understood what he was talking about. _Another place we’re not going Little Wing._ But Jason kept talking “He’s not supposed to grab me when I’m having a nightmare. Not without checking for guns or knifes. He knows this shit, Dick. I’ve tal…” Dick decided he’d heard enough.

“This wasn’t Tim’s fault, Jason.” He said, perhaps a little curt and angry himself. He knew what Jason was going though, he knew trying to place the blame on anyone else was common when dealing with this kind of things, but he needed to cut that line of thought. He’d already gotten the information he needed. _This was an accident._ Unsurprisingly enough, Bruce was right. Now he needed to work on all his brothers understanding that.

Jason seemed taken aback by his phrasing, and thankfully he seemed a little chastised about his previous train of thought “I know th…” he started to say. But Dick decided to cut him again, because he knew where the next stop in that train was. “And it wasn’t yours either”

Jason huffed holding his stare “Jay you were asleep. At best you were sleepwalking. This… We’ve seen this shit in other of the Arkham Rogue’s victims. PTSD” now the huff and stare were dialed up to deadly glacial, Dick needed to handle this carefully. “I’m serious, Jay. This… This sounds like a strong episode, and if you…” It was his turn to be cut off.

“So, not guilty by reason of insanity” Jason asked, in a low growl “That’s your angle?”

Dick forced himself to take a breath before answering. “No, Little Wing, I’m just saying that this was just an accident. Just a fuck-up created by a mix of bad-luck, poor timing, and some PTSD… And don’t give me that look, we’ve talked about this, don’t try to put your head on the sand now and pretend your problems have just disappeared. I know you’ve been better for the past year, and quite frankly I think most of that is because of Tim, but you don’t just get cured of shit like this. What we go through… It’s not easy. After all the shit I’ve been through, Blüdhaven, Bluckbuster, _Tarantula_.” He forced himself to say that last name out loud. Everyone in his family knew about _that_ he’d told himself it was for the best, to create a net around him in case his thoughts turned dark and self-harmful again. But. This wasn’t about him. This was about Jason, his brother, who was working himself into a route of self-hatred the same way he had, all those years ago. He might not see it yet, but Dick could see the early signs. The anger at himself, at Tim, the uncertainty about his motives. _Trying to even find a motive_ when the only reason this happened was because life sucked sometimes.

“You think I don’t wake up some nights, disoriented, ready to fight, to beat up whoever I could see as a threat? And that’s me, without having to fight Pit’s side effects; which, we _know_ are life-long.” He finished looking at him. That last part was the one he needed to convey. This wasn’t Jason. This wasn’t an attack… This was a fucked up accident “Tim’s not going to hold this against you Jason. You’ve _tried to kill him_ before, and he’s been able to see past that, and still fall in love with you. And you think that _now_ ’s when he’s gonna realize you have problems.” He knew it was a low blow, but he needed to make it. He needed Jason to see that this was _nothing_ compared to the shit they’d already weathered out.

Jason looked at him and growled again “Shut up, Dick.”

“Jay…” he tried to say before Jason spoke again “Just shut up. Ok? I…” Jason forced himself to take a calming breath before turning around. He walked out the ring, but before being out of earshot he said “You should call Barbie and Blondie. They’ll want to know, and we both know no one else’s gonna do it.”

Dick smiled a little. It was very Jason to think about his sisters, but deciding not to do anything himself. “Sure. Yeah.” He said. He’ll probably have to call the Titans, if he remembered correctly, they were expecting Tim to show up today. He’ll better call in the morning if he didn’t wanted the Manor stormed by a half-Kryptonian, a Speedster and an Amazon half pissed, half worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> Second chapter's up. Next chapter's Cass POV, and I'll bring in Steph, Babs and the Titans.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the story so far.


	3. Cass' POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cass' POV

Cassandra Cain-Wayne wasn’t a stranger to pain. She’d been molded with it by his father. She’d been haunted by it, before Bruce saved her. She’d been accustomed to inflicting it and receiving it in the name of _the_ _mission_ , of her _penance_.

However, it hadn’t been until she’d come to live with the Family that she’d truly learnt the impact of experiencing _other’s_ pain as if _her own_. That wasn’t _exactly_ true. After all, her empathy had driven her away from her father; an empathy that drove her to _read_ Faizel’s death.

But there was something about watching her family _being hurt_ that brought a kind of pain she didn’t really knew how to react to. Seeing Tim connected to the machines that tracked his vital signs, two days after being stabbed, Cass felt that kind of pain.

She quickly realized it wasn’t just her own emotions, it was everything around her. It was Tim’s drugged stillness in bed, which meant she couldn’t read _anything_ of his body. It was Jason’s angry guilt that screamed to her, his need to assuage the guilt coupled with the inability to let himself be close enough with anyone to actually get help. It was Damian’s anger, fear and confusion at everything that was happening. It was Bruce’s barely masked anguish and doubt about how to behave in front of his children. It was Dick… Dick who somehow managed to mash everyone’s emotions and then multiply them and broadcast them in his body language in a way she _couldn’t_ ignore.

It was Steph’s panic once she’d come to see Tim after Dick had called her. Her anger towards Jason once she’d know what happened, and then her _something_ after she’d managed to calm and listen to Bruce and Dick. Cass hadn’t managed to identify what that last feeling was.

Her family’s emotions were usually _hard to_ _read_ , and she appreciated that, because for too long she’d been scared of being able to see people’s emotions through their body and her inability to properly react to them. But, for the last 48 hours her family’s actions and emotions were overwhelming her.

She wasn’t used to be able to _see_ so clearly the emotions running through her family and, quite frankly, it had scared her. But most importantly, it pained her. Because she didn’t knew how to _express_ the same feelings she was seeing. She didn’t knew how to tell Bruce it was ok to show his hurt for Tim or his understanding to Jason. That Jason _needed_ that reassurance.

She didn’t know how to tell Damian it was ok to show his fear for Tim, because they were all afraid; that he needed to stop lashing out at Jason because he was hurting him too much.

She didn’t knew how to tell Dick that he didn’t need to carry the whole family on his shoulders. That even though everyone was feeling _too much_ right now, she could see the love still intact between his siblings. That Jason wasn’t hating himself. That Steph didn’t really hated Jason, and that Damian was just confused, he didn’t really blamed Jason, he was just deflecting because he _didn’t knew_ how to feel.

She _couldn’t_ tell everyone all that she could read, and that hurt. Because if she was better at _saying_ … at _showing_ , she could ease her family’s pain. Her inability to truly _convey_ all she could see was causing her family to continue this cycle of hurt. ASL and half fragmented sentences just weren´t enough.

And that pain… she didn’t knew how to deal with that.

She sighed and looked at the still ( _so still_ ) body of his brother as she let those thoughts drift away. Cass looked at the big clock at the entry of the infirmary. According to Alfred, by now the drugs should be passing through Tim’s system, so he should be merely sleeping, not drugged. But it still looked wrong to her. Cass had learnt to read the difference between both. Tim’s natural sleep was, as most of Tim’s natural states, fidgety. Cass didn’t knew how Jason was able to sleep with him, when some part of Tim was always moving, his hand, his head, or his feet, always with a small tremor. Now though, with a drugged system, Tim was still as a stone.

 _Wrong_.

Tim had been awake yesterday, but he hadn’t managed to stay conscious for more than a couple seconds. It had happened three times already. All three times he’d mumbled incoherently, until that morning when he’d managed to ask for Jason, but had passed out again before he’d arrived.

Cass had yet to see his brother awake, only Dick and Damian had been able to do so. She saw how much it bothered Jason, and she understood him. She’d only seen Tim sleep or drugged. Tim, who generally stood tall, with his spine as straight as possible in obvious compensation for his height, with his arms and legs in a _dangerously casual_ relaxation. Tim hardly ever truly relaxed. Funny enough, it was a trait he and Damian shared, despite their disregard for anyone trying to draw a comparison between the two.

While Dick, Bruce and, to a lesser extent, Jason were always fully _aware_ , they let themselves relax sometimes, when they were in safe environments. Tim, Damian and herself didn’t. The reason, she’d come to learn much later in their relationship, was completely different.

Damian’s inability to fully relax, like herself, was born from a childhood deprived from trusted contact. They were used to be attacked and ambushed. So they didn’t relaxed. Not even in private.

Tim, on the other hand, couldn’t relax because his brain wouldn’t allow it. If Bruce and Dick arrived to the Batcave they let themselves relax; they remained _hyper-conscious_ of their surroundings, but their bodies would relax, their muscles would stop being tense.

Tim, on the other hand, would _feel_ safe, but that safety drove his mind into overdrive, and he focused on making connections, assess scenarios and in general, _think_. So, as a result, while his mind disconnected itself from reality, his body would instinctually tense, a sort of defense mechanism in case his brain perceived any threat.

It was magnificent to watch, really; the differences. While Dick’s _awareness_ would inform him of a threat and react to it before it connected, and then he’d assess the situation. Tim’s instinct would kick in, and _then_ , he’d assess the threat and react to it. So while it was easier to get a drop on Tim than it would be on Dick; Tim could be able to counteract a threat more effectively on the long run than Dick.

For Dick, you had to assume you ambush won’t work, and account for four or five moves ahead to try and take him down.

For Tim, you had to take him down in the ambush, or in the first couple of moves. If you let it go too long, he’d start to create contingencies. And you _do not_ want to give Tim any time to make contingencies.

It’s why she liked teaming up with him, like they’d done in Kong Kong or back when he started as Red. He was all instinctual _logic_ , she was instinctual _action_. It was a shame they didn’t fought together more often. She’ll change that once he recovers. She’ll try to spend more time with him.

Hopefully it wouldn’t go as last time.

Over a year ago, she’d voiced, as best she could, her desire to be with Tim; but she had said it wrong and suddenly everyone was giving her funny looks that she hadn’t been able to properly process. Tim had flushed red, as if the thought of them working together embarrassed him, which she hadn’t understood because they had worked before and had been fun.

Then Steph had talked to her and asked her if she liked Tim, and of course, she’d nodded, _because she did_. Tim was his brother, and he was awesome. How could she _not_ like him? It was later in that conversation, when she realized how Steph had twitched and felt uncomfortable, that she understood what everyone else had _read_ from her words and she felt a little silly.

It was one of the most difficult aspects of speaking, the nuances of context and content.

Now, she understood better.

She understood how “I want to be with Tim” could be misinterpreted from her desire to be with him in the field, to her desire to be physically with him, and even _physically_. In her mind, the nuances between the intonations of the same word were clear, and they meant a world of difference. She understood those differences, _of course she did_ , she wasn’t naïve; but her inability to properly express them in spoken language often get her frustrated, and she ended up refraining from speaking, for fear her words might be misinterpreted.

In the end, she’d managed to clarify what she meant, but by then Jason was mocking her ( _jealous_ ), Steph was distrustful ( _jealous_ ) and Dick had decided he didn’t wanted anything to do with that discussion, and the topic was forgotten.

She smiled softly at the memory. And she felt, once again, a stab of pain at remembering how each of her siblings was faring now.

She needed Tim to be awake, so she’d decided she wanted to be close to Tim.  Apparently that was a common desire. The infirmary was quickly replacing Alfred’s kitchen and the Batcomputer as most crowded places in the Manor. Right now, Jason was sleeping on a chair, next to Tim’s head. He’d refused to move other than to go to the bathroom; Bruce had desisted from trying to get him to leave after Alfred brought Jason a tray with sandwiches, silently giving him his blessing to remain in the infirmary for dinner the first night.

Dick had been coming and going around the Manor, Cass hadn’t known Dick had such knowledge of post-operatory care, but he’d surprised her with how he seemed to know exactly how to treat Tim. Alfred had informally delegated him to be the unofficial nurse, taking care of dressing his wound, checking the liquids, and feeding the IV tube with the right mix of nutrients while the old man took care of the Manor.

When Dick wasn’t floating around Tim, he was divided in five, following Damian, calming Steph, distracting Jason, talking to Bruce and somehow having time to serve as the official bridge of the Wayne household with the outside world. It was a common occurrence, at least for the public, that whenever a member of the Wayne family got hurt, the family closed ranks and reduced public appearances secluding in the Manor.

In reality, 80% of those times, what happened was that all members of the family were usually in a crisis that required them to be 24/7 in their mask persona, so the excuse of them secluding in the house worked wonders to justify why none of them were seen in public.

Usually, Tim or Bruce handled public appearances, as they were the more visible members of the family. She almost never appeared on the cameras, Jason was “dead”, Steph had no legal standing in the Family and Dick didn’t bother. This time, though, Dick took it upon himself to call on the media and tell them Tim had had an accident. The rest of the cover would fall on WE people Cass didn’t really knew much about.

Damian was the one spending less time with Tim. He’d came in after Dr. Leslie had left, looked around for a second, and then bolted. He’d only came down a couple times spending the rest of the time avoiding Jason and, since this afternoon, Dick. Cass didn’t knew what was going on, other than Damian’s early explosion. It was obvious he blamed Jason. She could see why: Tim’s injuries were serious, they were intended to kill. It would have been one of maybe ten deadly attacks she would have gone for if she’d _wanted_ to kill Tim with a Kris.

But it was also obvious Jason hadn’t attempted _murder_. Damian hadn’t seen Jason after the attack. She had.

She had kneeled in front of him, trying to calm his mind. She’d seen the emptiness in Jason’s face while he sat there with his bloodied hands, looking at nothing. She’d had to convince Jason that Tim wasn’t dead, that he was getting help. She’d moved him to the bathroom and washed his hands because he’d been too out of himself to even grab the soap.

Cass had seen what hurting Tim had done to Jason those first few minutes, before he’d been able to lift his mental walls. She hadn’t seen a killer.

Even now, sleeping in the chair, Jason’s body screamed about his care for Tim. His body was angled towards Tim so that he was the first thing he’ll see when he’ll wake. It was also protecting of him, the same way a bodyguard would unconsciously stay in a way they could get in between their client and potential threats. His hands were on the chair, but clearly pointing towards Tim’s hands, in an evident desire to hold them, but forcing himself against it. Even sleeping on a chair, Jason’s body told Cass everything she needed to know about this accident.

But Damian refused to see it. She hadn’t quite figured out why, but she could see how he second guessed every interaction he had regarding Tim. _Something_ bubbling just below the surface that she couldn’t see. But she hadn’t had time to figure it out, because between avoiding Tim, Jason and Dick, Damian had ended up avoiding her too.

Steph and Bruce had been the ones who had forced themselves to act as normal as possible. She had _felt_ their uneasiness at being in the infirmary, looking at Tim. They both seemed hurt, but they both seemed unable to stay more than two minutes there. Cass had stayed most of yesterday with Steph, trying to calm her and just being with her. It usually eased both their minds to be near the other. They could spend the whole day together and it felt _right_.

For some reason Steph always seemed to _get_ what she was trying to say, even with as little as a gestural expression. She was, after Barbara, the best person Cass could communicate with. She managed to calm Steph, to reassure her. And then Dick had come and helped her with the communication of all the details of the accident and the reasons behind it. Steph had already came to the conclusion that it had been an accident, but it was clear she hadn’t expected it would be Jason reliving an attack by the Joker. Steph had left, and came back earlier that morning to look at Tim and give an encouraging smile to Jason, before going back to college.

Right now, Bruce was working, Jason was sleeping, Damian was sulking, Steph was studying, Alfred was making dinner and Dick was _somewhere_. Which left Cass with a simple moment of quiet to measure up her feelings and trying to ease the weight on her chest.

She wasn’t sure how to manage that yet, though. She needed a way to stop her brothers from hurting.

Jason was easy. He just needed Tim to wake up and, hopefully, tell him that he shouldn’t be worrying so much, that he still loved him.  Steph, Dick and Bruce were pretty much the same. Tim awakening, and they could stop overthinking about Tim’s health.

Damian was the hardest. Mostly because she didn’t knew what was hurting him. Not for certain.

 _And me_? She thought for a second. She also needed Tim to wake. She needed to see he was alright. She needed to be assuaged that this was just a nightmare gone horribly wrong.

She sighed, because this was the fifth time she arrived at the same conclusion. What was needed was for Tim to be alright. And she couldn’t do anything to help Tim _be_ alright. So all she could do was stay there, as she had for the last two hours, and hope that he’d wake up today, and stay conscious long enough to ease everyone.

It was times like this that she missed having Barbara around her. They’d clashed quite a lot while she was Batgirl, but Barbara’s extrovert and verbose attitude actually helped her focus and express herself. Like Steph, Babs was one of the few people she could truly communicate with, and often times served as a translator to her.

Although Cass was becoming more confident each day.

Last week she’d been able to hold an entire conversation in the coffee house without long pauses. She’d been so proud, her smile hadn’t wavered all day. She’d told Jason about it and he’d hugged her and congratulated her. People always said Dick gave the best hugs in her family. It wasn’t true, Jason did. He just almost never gave them, so people couldn’t compare.

Not that she’d skip on a hug from Dick, they were _world_ -class. But Jason’s were so scarce, they overflew with emotion.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention to the entrance of the infirmary. “Hey! Oh…” Dick cut his eager greeting at the sight of Jason sleeping. Cass followed his sight and immediately noticed the strain on his arm, the tension on his neck and the fact that his left foot was firmly planted on the floor. Simple tells that showed a simple conclusion.

_Pretending_

Dick didn’t seem to notice, because he made a hushing noise at himself and came closer to her. She considered telling him, but decided against it. Jason might had his reasons to pretend to be asleep. “Hey…” Dick said, now next to her.

“Hi…” she answered.

“So, I just came with a heads up. It’s about to get crowded here. Titans’ jet just entered Gotham air space. Wonder Girl, Superboy and KF are coming. Raven and Gar stayed behind, but they’ll be here somewhere during the weekend.” He looked at her and at Jason, unsure on how to follow, but Cass had a good idea of what he was asking her.

 “Ok” she said. _\- I’ll make sure they let Tim rest. Jason already knows though._

 “Do you want me to stay?” he asked her. She simply turned her head around and repeated the question back to him.

“Do you?” She asked. - _It’s your decision to make._

“I…” Dick said doubting a second. It was obvious to her that he wanted to be here, with Tim. “Someone has to go on Patrol. Bruce and the Birds have covered the whole city for two nights now…” She knew that was true. Jason had refused to put on the helmet and Damian had been benched after he went too far on a dealer on the first night, one hour into patrol. She and Steph had been put on a rotating schedule with the rest of the Birds until Tim came up. Tonight was Steph’s turn. But even with all the help, Gotham took a toll.

With one down, one refusing to go out, one benched, and one on a rotating care duty the masks were severely understaffed for Dick to take another night.

“Ok” she said. - _Go, take care of Gotham. I’ll manage here._

Dick nodded after a second, turned to see Tim and came close to the bed, resting a hand in Tim’s knee. “I’m going on patrol. I’ll be back soon, baby bird.” He said softly after a few seconds of staring, before turning towards Jason. Cass saw both men tense up, though Jason kept pretending to sleep. Dick simply turned and moved towards Cass. “Take care of them”

She nodded at him.

Dick left and for a second she remain there and sat pretending that Jason was sleep. Half a second later she heard a sigh. “You know I’m awake, right?” he said from the chair.

“Yes” She said without looking at him. - _I’ve noticed since you woke._

She noticed, however, that he straightened in the chair and looked at Tim before looking back at her. She returned his gaze and raised an eyebrow motivating him to talk. The tightened muscles in his jaw screamed with the barely concealed restrain to ask her something.

“I think it’s better if I scatter” he said. She read the question behind that statement. _Do you think I should?_

“No” She said. - _You should stay._  

Jason looked torn. It was obvious he didn’t wanted to leave. Tim was supposed to wake any moment now, and last time he’d awaken he’d asked for Jason. It made no sense for him to leave. Jason next words gave Cass a confirmation as though the motives for Jason’s desire to leave.

“Teen Patrol’s coming and we weren’t in the best of terms before _this_. I don’t think…” Jason’s disregard for Tim’s friends was evident in his posture and is tone. Cass suspected it was a front, since they were Tim’s friends, and everyone in the Family knew how precious each other’s friendships were.

Wally and Donna for Dick.

The Birds of Prey for Babs.

Roy and Star for Jason (and Dick too, really).

The Titans for Tim.

Jon and Collin for Damian.

Harper for Steph and herself.

They weren’t family. Not even like extended family, like the Fox’s and Duke (though he was becoming closer each day). But they were really important to each of them, and that made them important to _all_ of them.

Jason probably didn’t dislike them as much as he pretended. So the answer was pretty simple.

“Stay. For Tim” She said. - _Tim needs you, you should stay for him._  

Whatever Jason’s reply was supposed to be got cut by the gush of air that came through the door. One that, after getting somewhat familiar with Speedsters, she’d learn to recognize. Bart Allen stood at the foot of the bed, he seemed frozen in place there, looking intently at Tim. Cass had had little interaction with Tim’s team, other than the occasional team-up, but she was familiar enough with him to recognize the worry in his features. He was still wearing the suit, but his half cowl was hanging on his neck so his face was completely visible.

Also visible, the vibrations through his body that indicated that he wasn’t just taking in everything about Tim’s condition and the environment, but also fighting an urge to move.

“ _Dude_ ” he said softly, insecure, looking at Tim’s face. A strong voice outside made Bart jump and Cass turn around.  “Bart! We’ve talked about you running into the Cave like this.” The owner of the feminine, strained and certainly exasperated voice from the hallway showed up at the doorway “I’m not letting you… Oh”

Cass didn’t knew what was it that Wonder Girl wasn’t going to let Bart do, since her voice got cut when she realized the room wasn’t empty. At least that’s what Cass gathered by Cassie’s quick gaze towards Jason and her. “Hi” she said politely “I hope we’re not intruding.”

“No” she said, moving back to let her enter the room. - _Please come in. Tim wants… would want you here._

She smiled at her and waved, then turned at Jason, and her face darkened a little, but still she put a strained smile and simply greeted him with a curt “Todd”.

Cass knew that Tim’s friends didn’t exactly approve of his relationship with Jason; she didn’t truly understood it. She was aware of Tim and Jason strained past, but it was obvious to anyone the couple loved each other. Even back when they weren’t together, Tim and Jason kept _dancing_ around each other.

It was really interesting to watch, how the two of them would move around each other, constantly shifting in and out of their lines of sight, stealing glances, insulting with his words but inviting with their bodies. A slight touch, a lingering gaze. _UST_ had said Babs. _Shameless flirting_ had said Steph.

“Wonder Girl” Jason’s voice returned Cass to the present. Jason’s stance had shifted once again. Moving away from Tim but still with his body turned towards the Titans, ready to jump in between them and Tim. It was the same _dangerously casual_ stance most bats used when they wanted to appear unthreatening. It didn’t worked against someone like her or mother. 

Cass saw Bart turn his head around and in that moment she realized she’d been mistaken earlier when she thought he’d _taken in the environment_. “Oh. I… Sorry. I didn’t see you. Hi. Sorry. I was…” He wasn’t exactly speed-talking, but nearly “Hi, Cassandra, right?” he said appearing before her in a second and holding his hand, she took it a little uncertain “Jason…” he said waving at him. Not with the same level of distrust as Cassie, but still not warm. It was starting to annoy her.

“So, no one’s told us anything, like nothing at all. Only Dick calling and saying _Hey, Tim got hurt. He’ll not come to mission_ and then he hung up. Which was rude, BTW.” Said Bart in a single breath. His body vibrating in place and looking at Cass and Jason in intervals, probably not being sure who to address and using his hands to accentuate the gestures. “And we knew, I mean, obviously it had to be bad, because it was Dick calling; if it wasn’t Tim would have called, so obviously Dick calling was a sign that it was bad, but we don’t know how bad; and he looks bad, but... I guess not _bad_ bad-”

“Bart. Focus” Came a male voice from the doorway. Conner, Tim’s best friend and Cass first kiss. That last part probably didn’t mattered right now, but Cass couldn’t help remembering it from time to time. It’d been sweet.

“Yeah. Right. Sorry.” Bart looked directly at her and stopped moving his arms “How bad is it?” His hands were pressed together, his shoulders a little hunched up front but his spine was straight, like he was barely restraining from hugging himself. His legs were slightly separated and there was a tremor on his lower left leg. He was scared from the answer.

Cass looked at Cassandra and Conner, they both looked similarly frightened and awaiting. Conner was still looking at Tim with concern evident in his features.

“Stab. Not deadly. Was an accident” She said pointing at her abdomen, where the knife had entered. - _He was stabbed in the abdomen. It’s a mild injury but it’s not deadly. It was an accident._

Bart visibly paled, but turned quickly to see Tim. Cass turned to see Cassie and Conner who’d also entered the room looking at Tim with various degrees of pain.

“How…?” Conner asked his voice not entirely breaking, more like his mouth was suddenly dry. “What happened?”

“An accident” Jason said moving closer to Tim. However, a new voice came from the doorway. “Keep telling yourself that” Everyone turned to see Damian throwing daggers at Jason. And in a second, Cass saw what was about to happen.

“Damian” Cass said looking at Damian. Warning him. - _Don’t do this._

The last thing they needed was a fight to break in the middle of the infirmary. He looked at her defiantly, he was evidently aware of the consequences of telling the Titans about his suspicions. Jason moved a step back from Tim, and adopted a defensive step, and Cass gave a step forward, putting herself somewhat between Jason and Conner. He was by far the more explosive of the three. And the one more likely to take Damian’s words to heart.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Cassie. Damian simply look at Jason while he said “It wasn’t an accident. It was Todd.” The reactions in the room were instantaneous. Conner’s spine went rigid, Bart stopped vibrating, obviously sending the extra energy in his body to his brain for processing. Cassie’s eyes grew larger for a second before narrowing at Damian, assessing whether his words held merit.

At the same time, three voices muttered different variations of ‘ _What?’_ while Cass found her own voice saying “No _”_ drawing all attention to her. - _That’s not what happened_ ; and Damian’s inability to process his own feelings had just put Jason in a path of serious injury.

Jason was simply glaring at Damian, obviously tired of feeling guilty and instead opting for anger against his brother and, Cass was certain, anyone outside the family who agreed with him. “It’s true.” Damian insisted looking at her, barreling through the Titans and holding his finger against Jason. “I don’t know why he’s even allowed to be here with him.”

That did it.

Cass saw the moment in which the certainty installed into Conner’s body and settled in his fists and his face. “You.” He growled. Cass guessed anyone not familiar with the rage of a Kryptonian would falter under that gaze, under that low growling that sent an electrical current to her brain. More akin to the roar of a lion or the growl of a tiger than a human voice. “You did this?”

He started walking and Cass saw at least four points. Hits she could take to stop the marching of an invulnerable Kryptonian. She had to focus on the joints, a hit to muscle would be lost. Four choices.

A hit to the knee that would sent him kneeling in front of her (and a slightly l stronger one what would difficult his walking permanently)

A turn on his elbow that would sent him to his back (or a puncture hit to dislocate his forearm)

A kick to the groin that would force him to stop (or a stronger one that would call into question his ability to procreate)

A jump and twist on his neck that could sent him face first on the floor (or a more permanent twist he couldn’t recover from).

She saw them, like they were highlighted. She could stop him there and then. But then Jason held her. His hand was on her arm, planting her there. She saw how his shoulders held his head high. How his legs spread slightly to secure his foothold. How his abs were strained. He was preparing himself to be hit, and he was preparing himself to take it. Not to retaliate.

She forced his body not to take the four hits. Nor the next three that came once Conner passed through her and she could take him from behind. Nor the nearly dozen points she could use to break Bart and Cassie before they even _attempted_ to come close to Jason.

Instead, she moved back and stood closer to Tim, in case the fight threatened him. Conner marched up to him and grabbed Jason by the neck. “You tried to kill him.” Jason stood there holding Conner’s gaze and refusing to make a comment. This angered Conner who just pushed Jason and held him against the wall.

“Conner, stop!” Cassie came behind him and put a hand to his shoulder. He looked at her and said “He tried… You tried to kill Tim” Cass saw Conner tightening his grip against Jason, who just looked back at him with a blank expression, while Conner slowly crushed his throat.

“Cass said it was an accident” her namesake said and all of her body screamed worry. Cass wondered if it would be more effective if she actually tried to calm herself before trying to calm Conner; because her words were obviously not doing anything.

Cass decided to count to fifteen. If Conner didn’t released Jason by fifteen, she’d walked in and _make him_ release him. Screw what Jason wanted.

He obviously felt the need to stand in and take some sort of punishment while being uncharacteristically silent, but she didn’t had to stand for it indefinitely. _Fourteen_

She briefly wondered why Conner didn’t took his silence and stillness as a hint. It was obvious Jason felt guilty about this, otherwise his guns would already be pressed against the Kryptonian’s mouth ready to fire at him. Cass saw his hand itching to do just that. _Thirteen_

“Accident. Look at him Cassie. He. You…” Conner was talking. Screaming, replying to his girlfriend. Cass considered for a second if the hurt in his voice sounded as affecting to everyone else in the room. “I should… I knew this thing between you was a mistake. I knew you’d try something like this. You’re dangerous. I told him, he shouldn’t trust a murdering _psychopath_.” _Ten._ Her hands closed in fists that were making her nails burrow in her palms. Cass was already regretting her decision not to intervene. That last sentence was a little too much, _about five seconds too much._ She halved the internal timer. _Four._

“Dude, stop” said Bart. Cass decided not to take down Bart. Cassie either, she was trying to stop him, and she’d believed her when Cass said it was an accident. But, Conner was coming down. _Hard. Three._

Right now a dive kick on the back knee to knock his foothold and then a twist of the elbow would send him spinning to the floor. Then, she could let herself go a little. Conner _was_ almost invincible. She could let herself go for painful hits. She wanted to let go. _Think_ _Jason’s dangerous? She’ll show him dangerous. Two._

A movement to her left caught her eye. A hand closing. She turned, ignoring Conner’s insults and Bart’s pleading. She looked to the bed to see the eyelids fluttering and a gesture of pain flashing on Tim’s face. She moved her hand to his cheek and was rewarded with the eyes opening and focusing on her.

She saw the body start to move, testing itself and reassessing the brain’s control over the muscles. He made another pained face and a confused one. She imagined how odd it might feel, he started to look at the surroundings. She imagined the sounds of the screams had awakening him, and he was trying to assess where they came from. She was covering that sight from him right now. _Although… Maybe._

“Stop them” she said. – _You need to stop you friend from hurting Jason, before I really hurt him._

Tim’s brow wrinkled and she moved to clear his line of sight. His eyes widened and she could see his brain taking everything in and working the scenario in front of him. “ _What the_ …” he murmured as he used his shoulders to raise himself “Conner. Let him go.”

Cass was surprised at the strength behind that command. You wouldn’t guess the owner of that clear strong voice was just a second ago asleep, nursing a wound.

The reaction on the room was immediate. Conner turned around and took a step back from Jason, while the rest of the Titans stood frozen looking at Tim, processing the fact that he was awaken. It was taking them too long. “Tim!” Bart’s smile was wide and his eyes betrayed every feeling in his mind. Cass almost felt the need to smile herself just at that sight.

Damian was also looking at Tim, relief clear in his face. Cass had forgotten he’d been there. She hadn’t noticed what had he done while Conner attacked Jason, but by his stance, he hadn’t attempted to do anything. It angered her a little.

The relief in his eyes, that mirrored her own at seeing Tim, was enough to give him a soft pass.

Jason. Well, Jason was something else entirely. He’d moved from a rainbow of emotions in a second. And then he’d stayed stoically standing there, against the wall. Not bulging for a second. Not even bringing his hand to the red mark on his neck from Conner’s attack.

Tim looked at them. “Really?” he said trying to accommodate himself. His voice radiated with hurt and disappointment “I wake in the infirmary and this is what I have to see. My best friend choking my boyfriend.” Tim settled in the bed, raising himself a little on the pillows. He looked at Conner with a hard glare, and Cass was happy to notice the man hunched a little before resuming a defiant stance. “Tim, he…”

Tim cut him with the same disappointed voice. “I know what he did, Kon. It was an accident.” Tim moved his head to the table next to him, and in a second Cass read what he wanted, she turned and served him a glass of water, while Conner replied. “But, Damian said.”

Cass handed Tim the glass of water while he eyed Damian with a steely gaze. The boy flinched briefly but held the gaze not backing down. Tim sighed and took a sip of water before looking back at Conner. “Damian wasn’t in my room, Kon. Neither were any of you.” He said. “I was. I know what happened and it was an accident.” He cut whatever reply was coming his way drinking more water.

And then, to cement his statement, Tim moved his hand a little towards Jason, a clear gesture to encourage him to come closer and hold it. He did it in a second, moving away from Conner who still was standing there with his arms crossed glaring at Jason.

Jason took Tim’s hand and leaned in to give Tim a kiss on the forehead, but he tilted his head and caught Jason’s lips before the man could retreat. “I’m sorry” Jason whispered into the kiss, softly so that no one in the room could hear. From Conner’s frown she knew she hadn’t been the only one eavesdropping “I know” came the equally soft reply. She looked around the room, and other than Damian and Conner, everyone was smiling happily at the little love scene.

She wondered for a second if it would be OK for her to leave a second. Tim looked good enough and her earlier thoughts came down on her. Tim was alright. She could ease everyone’s minds.

“Bruce” she said to Tim, softly. – _I’m telling Bruce you’re awake._

He nodded and she left to look for her family, tell them he was awake.

“So… how do you feel, Rob?” Bart’s voice followed her out to the Batcave.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Cass saw the moment the Titans left the infirmary. It was twenty seconds after Dick had come down running in his full Nightwing attire and practically ripped open the door of the infirmary, ten seconds after Batman had done practically the same, only without the hurry visible in his body. Only the restrain.

The three were leaving, after talking to Tim for a good 15 minutes, strained at first, but then more calmed after Tim had threatened to kick them out if they didn’t behave. Cass followed them with his gaze to the plane. They were leaving and were coming back on the weekend.

She could just let it be. It was the easiest thing to do. Tim would encourage her just to let it all rest. That he’d just smooth things over. He was good with that. Diplomacy.

But she had an itch and she needed to scratch it.

“Conner” she said coming up to them and feeling a little satisfaction at how the three of them jumped. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you bats?” said Bart clenching his hand on his chest.

Conner turned to look at her raising an eyebrow as question. “You hurt Jason” she said, in no uncertain terms, and looking directly at him. Again, the flinching of Conner’s face and the step back were satisfying. He still sounded defiant while he answered “Yeah. I thought he’d hurt Tim. I… Tim says it was accidental, it was accidental. I don’t have to like it though.”

“You hurt him” she repeated herself and took a step forward. “I thought… You were better.” – _I thought you wouldn’t hurt my brother. Either of them._

She looked at the other Titans and they were looking uncertain. Good. They weren’t likely to intervene. It would be inconvenient it they did. She didn’t wanted this to become a fight. Just a reminder.

Conner looked nervous and sheepish about being reminded about what had happened. “Cass. I don’t wanna fight with you for this.” He said raising his hands. A mistake. The number of potential attacks had doubled with easy access to his forearms and hands. “I know I shouldn’t have attacked him; but the kid said he’d stabbed him and I…” he tried to justify himself. And Cass noticed two things while he spoke. He was ashamed. And he thought his _fists_ were what she was angry about “believed him” she cut him.

“Well yes.” He said. Cass slowly shifted his weight getting ready for a jump, before focusing on the words she wanted to say. The words that had really hurt. “Because… Jason is dangerous” she repeated to him his words. “A _murdering_ _psychopath._ ” She said, and in that moment she saw Conner knew what was about to happen.

She moved fast. Launching a kick at his knee and forcing him to lose his footing. She turned quickly and stood behind him, pushing his elbow behind his head and twisting his arm in a lock that forced a grunt from his lips. Standing in front of him, with his arm locked behind his head she whispered. “You hurt them again, I hunt you”. And let him go by the time Cassie started moving toward them.

“I thought better of you” she said before leaving them. – _I thought you cared more about Tim._

 Conner was slumped, with his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him. He could have fought back, but like Jason a couple minutes ago, he’d taken his punishment without saying a word. Hopefully, now he’ll think twice before unloading his frustration on his brother. Either of them.

Cass knew he was a good man. Normally she’d let this petty fights go, for Tim to handle; but this time he’d hurt his family more than he’d realized. Because he’d verbalized a fear Jason had held for a long time. She worried that he’d let it fester inside of him, hopefully he’ll tell Tim, and he’ll assuage the fears. But, Tim hadn’t known Conner had said those things.

She thought about it. How to express it to Tim. But then she remembered the real instigator of the fight. This stupid thing he did- She did needed to end that now.

She needed all the pain in the family to go away.

Tim was awake now. That was what was most of them needed. She was already feeling more like herself now. A pain and a sense of worry lifting from her shoulders. Bruce and Steph would probably feel it too. So would Dick. Jason’s pain would take a long time. Longer after what Connor had said, even if he acted as if it hadn’t bothered. But that was on Tim now.

Which left Damian.

She’d let Damian ignore her for two days now. It was time to start mending him as well. Then the pain would go. And his family would be back to normal. Even if normal meant _being_ _Bats._

Decided, Cass went upstairs to look for his brother. She’d unearth whatever it was that had him acting up and try to help him through it. She could do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter. It's one of the hardest to write. I'm not enritely happy with it, I don't know why. I hope I managed to capture Cass' essence. Please let me know what you think. I know I promised Steph and Babs on this chapter; but I had to cut it, because it didn't fit with the rest of the chapter. 
> 
> Maybe I'll add those scenes later, or I'll make them into a stand-alone fic in the series. It was basically a scene where Cass lets Steph vent, and goes to Babs to try and sort her observations about the behaviour of the family. 
> 
> So, I leave it to you, What do you think, would you like to read those ideas turned into a fic?


	4. Damian's POV

It was therapeutic.

_Tap._

Damian didn’t care what Di- _Grayson,_ said. The weight of the blade in his arms and the resistance against the dummy. The soft sound of the blade cutting through the air. The leather wrapping around the hilt...

 _… No._ _It’s not a hilt. It’s a tsuka_ , he corrected himself. He stopped his thoughts and cursed internally. It wasn’t a blade, it was a _sori._ It wasn’t a hilt, it was the _tsuka_ ; and it wasn’t leather wrapping; it was the exquisite _tsuka-ito_ that had been built to _his_ _precise specifications_. He wasn’t holding a piece of worthless metal. It was _his katana_. And he was practicing with it. Becoming one with it. Let his thought be driven away; as he’d been taught.

He’ll be damned if he let his teachings be Americanized like this.

He moved around with renewed focus and turned to the dummies. Only three remained, of the dozen he’d started with.

_Tap._

He moved slowly, letting his body transition between positions. Shifting, letting his body burn in the muscles the memory of the stages previous to a strike. Letting his muscles be accustomed to positions the human body wouldn’t normally find itself, so that when he came to this, in battle, his body didn’t rejected the position; that it would welcome it.

_Tap._

He breathed slowly, letting his thoughts go away from him.

_Tap._

All that mattered was his body, his katana, and his target.

_Tap._

The rest of the world…

_Tap._

_“Would you quit it”_ Damian screamed, turning around at the source of that annoying tapping.

It wasn’t exactly earth-shattering to find that it was coming from Grayson. He’d been annoying him since the morning after Todd attempted to kill Drake. Lately, Cassandra had joined him in his efforts, but after the talk on the library, she’d left him alone. Damian knew it wouldn’t be long before Pennyworth and, God help him, his Father would join in the _fun_.

Apparently dissent wasn’t encouraged in this household.

_How very American of them._

Grayson had the gall to look at him as if though he was the one offended by his outburst. “What?” he questioned and for a second Damian thought maybe he’d been unconscious about it, but then Grayson threw the stick he was holding on his hand. Damian saw it travel nearly a meter and a half into the air before Grayson caught it without looking and let his hand drop against the metallic table.

_Tap._

This time he felt the tapping with his body, as the sound made him shiver while he glared at Grayson. “ _That_ ” he said pointing the stick with his _katana_ “is annoying.”

Grayson looked at his own hand surprised. “Oh. Sorry, kiddo. My bad.” He said, and Damian had to accept that Grayson wasn’t good enough as an actor, and he was too good a judge of character for it not to be unintentional.

Regardless. His training was ruined now.

“What do you want Grayson?” He asked, grabbing his _saya_ and securing the katana while he walked towards Grayson. “I would have expected you not to leave Drake’s room for the foreseeable future.”

“I know. But he’s with Jason now, and I’ll leave for patrol in an hour so.” _Great._ Another reminder of something he _cannot_ do thanks to the nonsense that had taken over his house. He can’t train without being disturbed. He can’t be alone without being pestered. And he’s _benched_.

 _Benched_. Like a crappy _sub player_.

This line of thought was interrupted before he had a chance to even think about a reply. “He also told me something interesting. You haven’t gone to see him since he woke up.” Grayson looked at him and Damian crunched his nose, expecting another lecture about what he’d said that first night. Grayson had been very vocal about his dissatisfaction on how he handled telling the truth to the Titans. It didn’t mattered. It had felt a little refreshing seeing someone actually believing him and acting upon it.

Todd deserved far worse than a sore throat.

Grayson was looking at him like he expected a response. “He’s resting, and I’ve had no need to seek Drake. Why would I impose on him?” he replied. It was true enough. There was no reason for him to go to Drake’s room. It wasn’t exactly a secret that their relationship was _strained_. He didn’t wanted him dead and, as far as he could tell, the feeling was mutual. However, they weren’t _close_.

Damian didn’t wanted him hurt and he’d even go as far as to avenge Drake, should he suffer from anyone’s hand. But from there to actively seeking Drake…

True, this put Drake within a short list of people he could admit he _cared_ about. Friend, might be an apt description, except their relationship wasn’t _friendly_. He wasn’t family, but he wasn’t _not-family_ either _._ It was a blurry line.  Probably on the same footing as most of the Leaguers, and other heroes he’d came across in his adventures.

Interestingly enough, Drake used to be the baseline to gauge if he considered someone as _close_ to him. If he cares about them more than Drake, they are close; if he cares less, they aren’t. He was in the fringe line, which had caused problems for Damian on the last couple of days, because he’d been forced to try to determine how to feel about _him_ ; but without the metric of Drake himself to compare, he’d been unsure.

And, worst of all, thanks to Cass he’d been forced to consider that Drake had become closer to him than he’d originally believed. Far more than he would like to admit it. That maybe he needed Drake more than he thought he did. _Still_. Neither him, nor Drake were in a state of mind conductive to such realizations, so he had nothing to discuss with Drake. Regardless of what Cass might think.

“He’s your brother, Dami. And he was hurt. You should try and go see him.” Grayson insisted. “I don’t think he would have mentioned not seeing you if he didn’t _wanted_ to see you.” That was true enough. Drake seldom did and said things out of whim. A gentle questioning, an innocent suggestion in a conversation that would take Grayson in a quest to find Damian and force him to go and find Drake did sound like something the former Robin would do.

He felt a little irked at having his mentor manipulated in order to seek an audience. It was annoying.  “tt. Well. He can come and find me, then.” He said without thinking. By the moment he ended the sentence he’d realized the impossibility of that particular request, and Grayson didn’t lost the opportunity to hold his lack of awareness to his face. “He’s still on mandatory bed rest, kid. Just go see him.” he said.

Damian tsked with his tongue enjoying the look of disproval in Grayson’s eyes. Then, Grayson took his eskrima stick and threw it carelessly to the air again. Damian saw the opportunity for revenge. In a single movement Damian unsheathed his katana and hit the stick before it started its descent. Grayson was caught off guard by the movement and ended up following the path of the stick down the deep end of the Batcave with his eyes, while his hand stood open, in the place it had been, where he would have caught it had Damian not intervened. He looked stupidly at the cave for an instant before turning to him “Hey!” he complained.

“I told you. It’s annoying” he said pleased to have been able to pull this one off. “That was rude.” Said Grayson looking at Damian annoyed.

“tt. As rude as, say, interrupting a training session with incessant tapping?” he replied nonchalantly moving past Grayson and into the Cave.

Grayson only narrowed his eyes and told him “Go find it.”

Damian wanted to laugh and scoff at the same time. However, instead, he simply raised an eyebrow and looked directly at Grayson “Sure thing” he said making it patent what he thought about that suggestion.

Grayson stood tall and came closer to him.  “Damian, I’m serious. Get down there and bring it back.” He said pointing the hole where the stick had fallen. Damian wasn’t sure he’d heard the final hit, so chances were the stick had fallen to the bedrock, nearly 12 meters down the hole. That’s almost four-stories high. Grayson was going to have to rappel back down there.

Damian scoffed at him and started walking towards the Manor. “I can’t” he said carefully, he knew Grayson was likely to try and grab him for turning his back on him. “Drake needs to see me” Chances were low he was actually going to Drake’s room, but Grayson didn’t needed to know that.

“Oh, you can go see him” said the voice behind him, surprising him how close it was. _So Grayson was following him. This could be fun._ “As soon as you bring my stick back.” He ended.

Damian turned around. This could be _really fun_.

“Make me” he said challenging. The immediate raised eyebrow was enough to make him realize he was right. Grayson looked really affronted “ _Make_ … I’m gonna _throw_ you down there, you little imp.” his eyes turned into a beautifully fired blue Damian had always seen when he’s in the field. Damian barely managed to slip away as he launched to grab him.

He moved to his left trying to escape from Grayson’s hands. Damian felt the adrenaline rushing through his body as he ran towards the stairs. He was fast but he didn’t had any chance of staying out of Grayson’s reach if he let this become a real chase. So he played on his strength, he run and forced a sharp turn, swatting Grayson’s hand with his sheathed sword and taking advantage of his short stature to slip under his arms. He then ran up to the batcomputer and jumped towards the rail on the second floor, lifting himself up. Grayson would never risk standing on the computers or the rail due to his weight, so he was somewhat safe, however, he was also half-corralled, with only one option.

He took a run on the rail and jumped, hearing Grayson’s shocked gasp as his body slowly reached the intended destination, a transversal metallic support beam. He barely made it, and started crawling towards the end of the cave. He looked down expecting to see Grayson’s frustrated face; what he didn’t expected, was to catch a glimpse of the end of an impossible jump from the cave floor all the way to the beam he was currently standing on.

_How did he do that? That’s a 6 meters jump. That’s impossible._

Grayson’s eyes were gleaming and Damian suddenly realized he was in serious trouble. He looked around trying to find a way out of this. His idea to reach the beam on the opposite side and slide down was becoming impossible. _Unless._

He looked at the top of the cave, he barely had a chance to stand up, but he could get into a starting position. He lowered his hips and raised his chest, putting all his weight on his toes. His legs were coiled, ready to release the pent up energy and then he calculated the jump. If he missed this Grayson would have no need to throw him down the cave; he’ll get himself there. Damian silenced that thought and concentrated on creating as much tension on his leg muscles as possible, as soon as he’d let go, his body would propel towards a vertical beam. He had to make it. We waited half a second and let go; kicking the beam with all his strength and gaining enough speed to try and maneuver himself to where he wanted to go.

It turns out he didn’t needed _that much_ strength, as his body crashed against the beam with too much force and he had to receive the strain on his hands and chest. The oomph was involuntary, but he barely noticed it as he realized that he was three meters away from the stairs, and Grayson was still hanging on the beam, looking at him as if he was crazy. He was probably saying something of that sort, but his blood pumping on his ears wasn’t letting him hear it clearly.

He took a run, and as calculated, Grayson had to move quite a bit in order to make a safe jump, which gave him enough time to run upstairs. “Come back here, little demon”. _Shit_. Grayson was gaining on him, his shadow told him he was starting to run up the stairs. If he caught up to him, Damian was lost. The stairs barely had enough room to maneuver. He couldn’t get away with his height as he had earlier.

He increased his speed as he came closer to the Manor. Once in the Manor he could disappear to any room and forget about this. Grayson would be forced into patrol and by the time he came back, chances were he’d forgotten. Or at least, be less pissed.

But that was only if he managed to get into the…

Lady luck was in Damian’s side, as a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. He recognized it immediately and formulated a plan; he only needed half a second to win this race. He had one shot at this. He ran up a couple steps and used his speed to kick on the wall and managed to take four steps pressed against the cave wall, giving enough room to actually pass the figure of his father, who simply stood there looking at him, and at his brother, who was coming in far too close.

He smiled. “Father. Stop Grayson.” He screamed as he passed and he saw him standing on the stairs looking at his elder. Damian smiled. He was still small enough that he could pass the side of his father; his brother couldn’t. The stairs were too narrow. He’d had to press himself against Bruce’s body as they passed each other, which was unlikely to happen as his father looked at him questioningly for the half second he needed to enter the Manor.

“Hey, that’s cheating.” He screamed from the side of his father.

“Leave me out of it.” Said Father. Damian could hear the smile on his lips when he decided to shout a “ _Traitor_ ” with a mocking hurt tone to his father as he passed the old grandfather clock. The small distraction had been enough and he managed to slip into the kitchen. Grayson would assume he’d head for his room. And even then, he’d probably be reminded about patrol by Father.

He allowed himself to catch his breath as he listen intently for any sound coming from the lobby. After a couple seconds he allowed himself a smirk, before realizing he was already smiling. And then the whole event came back to him and he froze. _Had he...?_ He’d been laughing. He’d been _giggling_ while being chased by Grayson.

_Shit._

He’d thought of Grayson as _his brother_ , without having to consciously think about it.

_Shit._

Suddenly, his Father’s smile as he passed by him and asked him to stop Grayson made a lot more sense. He’d been smiling as he passed him. He huffed and turned around to serve himself a glass of water, and trying to regain his composure.

_This family is ruining me._

_-_-_-_-_

“So. Are you?”

Damian stopped on the doorframe after hearing Drake’s voice. He didn’t sounded angry or mad; just… tired. He wanted to peek to try and gain a better perspective on the conversation.“Just quit it, Tim” Todd said, his voice coming strong from the doorway, and Damian resisted the urge to retreat, he was obviously talking from behind that door, and with the honed skills of all the Bats, it was almost certain that every second he spent on that doorway was a second closer to being caught eavesdropping.

He was supposed to be just following on a promise on Grayson, to come and look for Drake. He had no need to get himself involved in couple drama. Particularly not with _this_ couple’s drama.

“It’s got nothing to do with you” Todd continued and whatever _it_ was, judging by Todd’s voice, it had everything to do with Drake. And he was clearly not buying into the evasive. “I seriously doubt that.” Came a short curt reply.

“Look.” Based on the footsteps he was moving closer to Drake, and further from the door, which calmed Damian’s nerves a little. He focused more on the conversation. “It’s nothing. Just shit I have to deal with, Ok? Don’t worry about it… Just focusing on getting better, babe.” Damian was surprised to notice the affection on the last part of the sentence; and he was even more surprised by the fact that he didn’t flinched in disgust.

It had been months since he’d came to terms with the fact that his two presumptive brothers were partners… lovers… _whatever_. And he never really hold it against them, even in the League, free love was a constant. But he’d taken some joy on discouraging their displays of affection by making disgusted noises and faces at them. He just hadn’t realized how much he had to fake the feeling. Grayson was right, Todd was plainly, sickly in love with Drake.

“Are you going on patrol?” came Drake’s voice cutting his line of though. And even Damian could hear the wanting on that sentence, but apparently Jason didn’t seemed to care, which confused Damian, because he’d just gotten the opposite impression half a second ago.

“Yeah. Penguin’s starting to notice the lack of bats around.” Tim made a non-committal sound that showed he didn’t really believed that to be the only reason for Jason to leave. Damian had to agree. If anything Gotham was starting to get a little _crowded_.

Not only all Bats and Birds were converging on Gotham; but, with all the Titans and some Outlaws coming to visit, they’d taken some liberties against his Father’s no-metas rule. So far, he’d turned a blind eye, but it was starting to bother him. That much was obvious. Damian felt kind of sorry for the next Teen-Meta that decided to _help_ while his Father was on patrol.

“I’ll better get going” Todd said, sounding affected. Damian felt a knot on his throat at the obvious regret in his voice. It was evident he didn’t liked the tone of Drake’s humming, but rather than being angry, he sounded defeated. It was such a foreign voice in Todd, Damian almost got lost in it. He quickly backtracked and managed to separate himself enough to make it look like he was just turning the corner when the door opened.

He raised an eyebrow at Todd as he passed him, and he simply tilted his head in a short nod of acknowledgement. He had to bite his tongue to prevent a scathing comment to escape his lips. For the last two days, every time he passed Todd he’d uttered something on the lines of ‘ _Did you finished the job’_ But after hearing his voice on the clipped conversation, it felt out of place.

He expected Todd to notice his silence but the man seemed immersed in his own world, with a blank almost empty expression on his face.

He sighed. All he needed to do was staying with Drake. Drake who, apparently, was willing to let a _fourth_ assassination attempt fly by without doing shit about it. But then again, so were the rest of his family.

He felt a need to turn around and yell at Todd a little, just to ease his consciousness.

Not that there was anything to ease. Not that he owed Drake anything. _You want him... his... acceptance._ He silenced Cass' voice and any memories from that conversation 

He’d decided he wouldn’t mess on this topic anymore. If Drake was willing to share his bed and his body with his killer, so be it. Damian had gone on record repeatedly warning about this. He was not doing it more. He wasn’t even sure what had motivated him to do so in the first place. He should have just let his father be blinded by Todd’s act, and Drake act like a stupid lover boy in one of Brown’s movies. When Todd snaps and goes all Voorhees on Drake, he’s going to realize he should have listened to him.

He mentally replayed that thought and sighed. _Brown’s ‘You need pop-culture’ movie nights have got to end._

He walked up to the door and entered, not bothering to knock. Drake turned around, and Damian realized he was hoping for Todd to come back. The disillusion in his eyes was patent, and it froze Damian’s brain for a second. Enough, apparently, to offend Drake.

Drake was sitting on his bed, with his legs crossed and a laptop propped on a cushion over them. He had another half dozen pillows on his back so that he could recline on them, probably so that he didn’t stressed too much the muscles in his abdomen. Five days after the attack, his wound was probably still at risk of popping open if he moved too much.

He was wearing a red hoodie and sweater pants, and had a huge bottle of electrolyte solution by his feet, he recognized Alfred’s favorite brand, not commercial, produced exclusively for the British military. _Almost_ exclusively. 

“What?” Drake asked and Damian tsked. He really didn’t needed this. Still, he remembered his resolve and said “You sent Grayson for me.” 

Drake looked at him, lost for a second. “No I didn’t.” he said wrinkling his brow and Damian was lost. A lingering suspicion grew in him.

This had been a set up by Grayson. Drake hadn’t wanted to see him, Grayson was just using that as an excuse to have him and Drake talk.

“Oh” he said feeling uncomfortable under Drake’s gaze. He always did that _thing_ where he looked at you as if you were a puzzle. Father had that same look. It unnerved him. “Well. Then, I’ll leave you to…” he started to say before being interrupted.

“Wait, actually.” Drake turned around leaving his laptop on the side “I do have a question. What did Kon said to Jason?” Damian was thrown by the question. “What? He asked.

“Before I woke up. I know Kon said something. Jason’s been acting up. All I’ve managed to get out of him is that the Titans said something; and Cass doesn’t wanna say anything.” He explained, and Damian remembered the conversation. He considered it for a second. Telling Drake that his best friend had called his boyfriend a _murdering psychopath_ while choking the life out of him wasn’t going to end well for him. Drake would find a way to blame him for it, they’ll fight and his family will gang up on him, _again_.

He needed a different approach.

“Yes. I’ve noticed Cass has been acting weird.” He said, latching on that last part of the sentence and trying to buy himself some time. It was true enough. Cass had followed him all week trying to spend time with him. He didn’t minded. _Much_. But it was starting to lose its charm. Especially after that conversation on the library. He hadn’t liked the outcome of that one.

“Has she?” Drake asked not really buying into his diversion tactic. Damian decided to go for a diplomatic answer. Truth, but not a detailed one.

“hm” He hummed both answering him, and acknowledging Drake’s dismissal. “The clone boy did say something about Todd trying to kill you, and him warning you about it.” Drake cursed softly under his breath. He seemed to be running scenarios on his mind, Damian didn’t doubt Drake would be able to guess the correct scenario, maybe not the right words, but enough to figure out what had happened and act upon it.

Drake then turned to see him and narrowed his eyes at him. “You were the one that told him, weren’t you?” Drake asked in a low exasperated voice. _Great. Onto the blaming part._

“I merely explained the facts” Damian replied, not willing to let Drake bully him into believing he’d been in the wrong. He knew for a fact that he was right about this whole thing. _The only one in this family who hadn’t lost his damned mind._

“What facts?” Drake replied with the same voice that was telegraphing how much he believed Damian to be guilty about something. It was getting on his nerves already. “That Todd stabbed you” He answered strongly. _Why is this suddenly hard to grasp for everyone?_

“Did you also said it was at night, because he was having a nightmare, and this was a kneejerk reaction? Or did you willfully omitted that?” And Damian granted that he’d left those points out of his assessment, but then the whole conversation with Grayson played back on his mind, and Drake was following the same beats. Damian didn’t understood it. “ _Kneejerk_? Todd has to be the only person who _guts someone_ out of reflex.” He replied with poisonous sarcasm dripping out of his voice.

“ _God_ Damian, that’s not… It wasn’t nearly as bad. He was having a nightmare, I was the one who messed up here.” He said horrified at his expression. _Good. Because it’s horrifying. Finding you gutted on you bed was horrifying._ “Well, not the only one.” He added looking at him, with disappointment.

And that did it for Damian.

_Drake was disappointed._

_Disappointed in_ _him_.

The _only fucking one_ in this household that took Drake’s side on this mess. Well, screw him.

“If you want to accuse me of something Drake, just come out and say it” He hissed at him.

“You wanted Kon to attack Jason” Drake said with a certainty that forced Damian to do a double take. Because _what?_

“No, I didn’t” he cried, and he was flustered to realize his voice came out less angry and more indignant. But he didn’t care. Seriously, he was tired of everyone just assuming he was the _bad_ one.

Todd tried to kill Drake, and he’s the bad one for pointing it out.

The clone chokes and insults Todd, and he’s the bad one for telling the truth.

_Screw that._

“Then why did you tell him that?” he asked, also getting himself full in his self-righteous anger. _Screw everyone._ He was tired of this.

“Because it happened, Drake. He stabbed you. Why should we hide that it happened?” he said. Damian didn’t understood. _What was wrong about his actions?_

So Todd loved Drake. Great.

Damian could get behind that. Clap with everyone else at the star-crossed lovers.

_Woo-hoo._

But, people kill their loved ones all the time. Actually, people killed loved ones _more often_ than strangers.

Does that made it any _less_ of a murder?

Or what? Did Todd _lovingly_ stuck a knife on Drake? Is that it?

Does that made his attempt any _less_ horrific? Any more _worthy_ of forgiveness?

_Fuck. That._

“No one’s hiding anything.” Drake yelled back at him. “But you should tell the _full_ story. That this was an accident”

 _No it wasn’t_. Damian wanted to pull his hair. _Why can’t anyone see this?_

_This was an attack. A purposeful stab aimed to eviscerate his enemy._

So why is everyone _ignoring_ this?

Damian couldn’t understand it. He really didn’t get it. Well, from Grayson he could understand it. The idiot had a bleeding heart for his so-called family. He’d see Todd coming at him with a knife and he would think he was coming for a hug.

Cass and Brown were fooled by the love story, he gets that.

Todd was the attacker, his position was inherently biased.

But his Father and Drake. Their disbelief, their blind trust in Todd _hurt_. They’d been against Todd before. His father had come to realize the danger of the man. But once he stabs Drake… he’s suddenly worthy of his trust?

Isn’t it supposed to work _the other way around_?

How is he worthy of _everyone’s_ trust?

Of Drake’s. The most distrustful person in this family. The one who kept a fucking _hit-list_ for superheroes. At least Father’s Babel Protocol was focused on the top seven. Drake follows everyone. He’s the one who’s constantly tapping hideouts and creating contingencies on every-fucking-one of them.

But _Todd…_ Jason _‘kneejerk-eviscerating’_ Todd was worthy of his _trust_.

_Why?_

“I don’t get it.” He said looking at Drake, letting his frustration get the best of him. “Why is everyone so determined to believe this was an accident. To protect Todd.” He walked towards Drake, coming closer to him. He needed an answer. He… He didn’t wanted one, but he needed it.

Drake rolled his eyes and started again with the same fucking song. “Because it was an--”

“He stabbed you” he yelled moving his hands wildly, he knew he was losing control, but quite frankly he didn’t give a crap. He was _tired_ of the bullshit around this.

“He didn’t meant it” came Drakes reply and Damian was glad he let his katana on the cave, else he might have stabbed Drake out of sheer frustration.

“He tried to _kill_ you.” Damian screamed looking directly at Drake, having lost the last thread of patience in his body. How could he not _see_ what was going on? He’s supposed to be the _smart_ one.

“No, he didn’t. He had a nightmare, I don’t _hold that_ against him.”

And that was it. That was the problem. That was what Cass had said that had gotten to him yesterday.

They’d forgiven him.

Five days ago, Drake was still bleeding out from his abdomen and half his family had already forgiven Todd. Even before Dr. Thompson had arrived. Even before Father had come to a verdict. Everyone had forgiven him.

It wasn’t _fair_.

“Why?” he yelled at Drake. “Why does he get a pass from you?” he wanted to know. He needed to know. What did Todd _had_ that made his family overlook _this_? Overlook everything.

Drake sighed exasperated “How many times, Damian? He didn’t meant it. He was having a nightmare.”

Damian shook his head “I’m not talking about that.” He said. Drake made a stupid face clearly showing he didn’t get his point so Damian decided to elaborate.  “I’m not talking about last night.” He said slowly “I’m talking about _him._ ” Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? _Todd_.

There was a time when Todd’s brash attitude called to Damian, when it showed him that people were actually willing to fight this mission in different ways without automatically making them wrong. That Father wasn’t as perfect as he seemed. Todd had humanized this mission for him.

But _this attack_ had showed Damian something else. A glaring failure in his family. A failure to hold Todd accountable to his crime. He hadn’t proven himself to the family. Moreover he had _failed_ them and yet… he still got a pass.

His family didn’t _hold that_ against him.

No one seemed to be able to hold anything against him. Stupid Todd might as well be made of Teflon, the way he keeps slipping punishment. He attempted to kill almost all members of the family. Repeatedly. But he kept coming back. Unscathed. Unpunished. Unrepentant.

Why?

Why does he deserve that trust?

Why does he deserve that privilege when he has proven he _failed_?

Why does he gets that, when he hasn’t _proven himself_?

Damian looked at Drake. Sitting there, looking at him with confusion in his eyes, like Damian was the irrational one. Like he was the one that was hurting this family.

_Fuck him._

“He tried to kill you. _Three_ times.” Damian said pointing at a very visible scar on Drake’s throat. A reminder of other of yet another one of Todd’s failures. Another one he got a pass on “He beat you senseless more times than those. He despised you. Everything about you, all you represented. He _hated_ you.” He finished managing to stop his hurt from showing in his voice. “Why does he get a pass from all of that?”

“I…” Drake was looking at him confused, with big blue eyes like he’d been surprised. “Dami, he wasn’t himself back then. He was affected by the Pit. He… His rage wasn’t his own. We’ve came to know each other after that. I forgave him.” _Why?_

“But, why?” he cried again. “What did he do to make you forget everything? How… how can you just forget what he did?” _How do I get that?_ Damian bit his lips to prevent that sentence to come out. He didn’t wanted to go there. He… He wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

“I haven’t. I never will.” _But you did._ Damian thought. _You all did._ “But I can live with it, forgive and move on.” Damian looked at him Drake, and considered his words. Forgive, not forget.

_Why?_

_How?_

Drake was looking at him with _that face_ again. The Puzzle face. Damian started shifting in his place. “This isn’t what it’s bothering you, is it? There’s something else” _Of course there’s something else. There always is._

Damian knew this wasn’t the real issue for him. He’d come to that realization a couple days ago, talking with Cass. For someone who doesn’t speak too much, she’s very good at allowing introspection. Damian had come to realize something he’d been too afraid to look at. But this stupid conversation with Drake was bringing it on.

Because Damian had realized that Drake mattered more to him that he’d let himself believe. Because his opinion was important to Damian. He hadn’t yet to understand why, or since when; but it was true.

But Damian wasn’t going to talk about it. “Forget it” he said.

“No. Damian. Just tell me.” _Shut up, Shut up._ Damian didn’t wanted to talk about this. He was about to explode and his eyes were burning behind his eyelids. He needed Drake to stop pressing right now, or he… “I can see this is hurting you, but I don’t get…”

“Why not me?” he said softly. That was the real question. The one Cass had brought out of him in a fit of rage. Drake tilted his head looking at him and the tears in his eyes were becoming really hard to hold on.

“What?” Drake asked. And Damian would have cursed him and left. He should have. But Drake had asked with sincere doubt in his voice. And Damian couldn’t hold it any more.  He needed an answer. He… It was unfair, and he needed to know why.

“Why not me?” he repeated with a soft voice. “Why… How can you forgive Jason, with all he did, but not me? I… I know I did things… I’m not proud of it. But… It wasn’t as bad, was it? Not three assassinations attempts. Not a full beat-down. Not a knife to the abdomen while you sleep. Jason was far worse to you than I ever was.” Damian cursed everything because he was starting to cry and Drake didn’t _deserved_ it. He didn’t deserve to look at him like this.

The unfairness of it all should be enough to shut up and not let them see him be this weak, but he couldn’t stop.

He needed to know. He… couldn’t make himself stop. “Why can’t you forgive me? Why do I have to keep proving myself, over and over and still not get that trust? What does Todd has that I don’t? Why don’t I deserve… I don’t know... something…”

Damian closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. He didn’t wanted to see Drake.

He didn’t want to see the mock and disgust on his face. Who is _he_ to demand this?

Todd and he are different. He knows this. On Drake’s eyes he’s undeserving of trust and forgiveness.

He’s the one who took the Robin mantle.

He’s the one who kick him out and forced Grayson to choose.

He’s the one that tried to kill him the day he met him.

_But isn’t Todd the same?_

Then, _why_?

Why does he have to be the only one in this family that Drake dislikes, that he _mistrusts_?

Even Todd made it out of the _list_. What is he doing _wrong_ that even Todd gets to be _better_ than him? More forgivable. More trustworthy.

Drake remained silent and Damian refused to give him the luxury to look him in the eye.

Each instant the silence stretched it felt like a knife in his heart.

Of course he’s not worthy of it. He can’t be. He’s tainted from his birth. How can the son of Talia al Ghul be trusted by one of the people Ra’s hates the most.

And grandfather _hates_ Tim. As much as he admires him. They usually came hand in hand.

And the feeling is mutual.

So why should Drake trust him. How can he forgive the boy who, after just half a conversation between them, tried to murder him and wear his clothes?

“Just forget it.” He said. Damian expected this. It’s why he refuses to even consider the questions by himself. It’s why he buries them under layers of pretending to disregard and hate Drake.

“Damian. Damian look at me.” Damian didn’t wanted to. A hand was suddenly on his shoulder, but Damian was too exhausted to battle it, so he complied and Drake’s face was in front of him. His eyes were glittery and he was looking him directly to his eyes. So honest and open. He’d never seen that in him.

“I forgave you ages ago.” Had he not been looking at him, Damian would have a hard time not scoffing at that statement. But the tone and the sheer sentiment on those eyes. That wasn’t faked. But still… It made no sense… He… He couldn’t have. Drake constantly brought his actions over. He constantly held it against him.

He…

He still rejected him.

"Damian, Damian listen to me" Drake must have seen something in his eyes, because he started talking softly. “When you died – in that fight in WE, against the Heretic – I realized how much I’d lost. The… the missed chances.”

Damian looked at Drake, he hadn’t thought about the impact of his death on Drake. He’d thought about how it must have been for his Father and Grayson. He never thought the impact it might have had in Drake.

“I… I’ve never said this to anyone, but back when my parents… before I was Robin, even during my first Robin years; I wanted to have a _baby brother._ Someone to keep me company. Someone I could teach how to… hack, how to run around Gotham, how to read, how to do photography. Real photography. Dick’s an amazing brother, but, I’ve always liked to teach, and… Well, we started with the wrong foot, back then, but… I really wanted to be able to… I don’t know. Teach you. How to be a Robin. I… It’s why the first thing I asked you was to spar with me. I wanted to see how you were trained, what I could teach you. I learnt a lot from Dick and I thought that maybe… Maybe I’ll be able to impart something on you. Some… I don’t know…” Drake wasn’t looking at him, he was just looking at the wall in front of him, reminiscing. He didn’t knew how to make of this.

_Drake had wanted him as a brother._

He’d always assumed Drake disliked him. From the start. At first, he’d forced himself to hate him, to take him out. The challenger, that’s how he saw himself. The rightful heir, challenging the pretender to the throne. It was stupid, but it was his reality.

Then Drake left and made a name for himself. By taking down his grandfather, of all things, and the Council of Spiders. And reorganizing the Titans.

And he’d surpassed _the Robin_. He was the _Red Robin_. And he became a constant reminder of his failures. Every step upwards for Drake, was one more step Damian would have to take to be considered _worthy_ of his mantle. One more step he’d had to take in order to stand side to side to him. And he needed to stand to his side, to regain his trust. To gain his forgiveness. To be worthy.

The _list_ had been a blow he’d never recovered from. It had shown him how far he was. Drake was at the peak of his success – after being proven right, after defeating his grandfather, after regaining the trust of his teammates – he’d came out and shown him how far they were. How much he would have to do to be trusted.

And it hurt, because he’d tried so hard…

So, he’d resigned himself. Drake wasn’t going to let him be on his side, he was one person he couldn’t regain, one member of the family that he’d kicked too far out of his reach. So he gave up. He wasn’t going to be on Drake’s side; so he decided to pursuit other goals. More _worthy_ goals. To be his father’s Robin, to be worthy of _his_ mantle. To be the best Robin there could be.

He was getting there.

Which is why this all seemed so unfair to him.

Because if he came out and attacked Drake, the way Todd had; he’d be sent to Arkham.

All his work would be scratched and he’d be seen as the _enemy_. He knew that whatever semblance of trust he had gain from Drake would evaporate in an instant. Yet, Todd stabs him and he’s forgiven immediately.

It wasn’t fair.

Except…

Except, he _had_ been forgiven.

Except, he _had_ been trusted. Drake was telling him in so many words.

“I… You never said anything.” Damian said softly.

Drake turned to see him again. “No. I never did. I… I guess I was _ashamed_. I… When you went after me, with the grenade and the brass knuckles, it hurt me. And I let my distrust take over, so when I saw you next I attacked, when all you wanted was to warn us about Talia. And I was so _ashamed_ of myself. Then I was in a really bad place, everyone was dying, the whole mess with Bruce and Dick taking Robin… It became easier just to pull back.” This time Drake was looking at him as he spoke and Damian was having a hard time tearing his eyes from Drake’s. There were a pool of honesty and regret and Damian wanted nothing more than to believe him.

“I… I didn’t make it any easier, either.” He offered. A truce. An olive branch. Something to start building a true relationship.

“That’s on both of us, kiddo.” He said, and Damian let out a breath he didn’t knew he was holding. Drake looked down at his hands and creased his brow before saying “But… I… I thought we had our thing working” he said, looking at him questioningly “I thought he were on a good path. We haven’t tried to kill each other in months.”

If that last one was supposed to be a joke, it had the poorest timing Damian had ever listened.

“Drake, even I know there’s a difference between that, and… a filial bond” he said.

And Drake nodded and made a face Damian didn’t knew how to identify. “I… Yeah. You’re right.” But then he tilted his head, like weighing an argument. “Though… a filial bond… Like the kind that takes you to Apokolips after a body?” He attempted a smile. Damian pressed his lips.

That had been _another one_ he didn’t wanted to touch.

_God, Drake was breaking him apart today._

“You went to retrieve a Robin.” His father had gone for him; but Todd, Drake and Brown had also showed up. He hadn’t understand it at the moment, it made him feel happy and warm. Until he _saw_ them. It had hurt a little, to be honest, to realize they’d only gone there out of a sense of obligation to their father, and not for _him_.

Still, Tim answered immediately “I went to retrieve _my brother_.” And the force behind it made Damian want to reconsider his position; but it wasn’t fair. He knew what he’d seen. It had been obvious. It had been sewn there, in front of all of them. Held as a reminder.

“But, the sigil…” he said. They’d all wore the _sigil of Robin_. They all had gone there, as previous Robins to fulfill one last mission for their Batman.

It was a mission to recover a _fighter_ in their crusade. Not… And then, Drake once again turned his world view with a single sentence.

“The sigil was just a reminder that we all _wore that_ once. It’s the basis of our _bond_.” Damian’s heart was hurting. He… He wanted to believe him. So much. But… It wasn’t true. _It couldn’t be._ He’d seen it. He’d seen them all, wearing his Robin sign.

That’s what he was to them.

That’s all he was to them.

A Robin.

Not a brother. Not family. A mission.

Drake looked at him and tilted his head sensing his reluctance.

“You know the saying _Blood is thicker than water”._ The change of topic threw him off a second so he answered honestly. “I’m aware of the American bastardization”. As soon as he said that, he realized what Drake wanted to convey. What he hoped, Drake was trying to convey. It… wasn’t likely, but yet…

“So you know the Arab saying, the one that holds a more _original_ meaning. _Blood-brothers are more truly one than milk-brothers_.” Damian nodded, not trusting himself to speak, knowing already Drake’s point. It was the same he’d made to himself when thinking about Grayson and Cass.

“I went there for my brother, Damian. Even if not a _milk-brother_ , nor one by DNA, then by something _stronger_ than that. You’re my bird-brother Damian. I fought that battle for _you_.”

Drake was sitting now on the edge of the bed. His legs on the floor and his hands on his knees. He moved and put both hands on Damian’s shoulders.

“I… You’re my brother Damian” He forced himself not to say or do anything that he had accustomed himself to say or do every time this topic came. He didn’t wanted to tarnish this. “And I’m sorry for making you believe you weren’t. For making you believe you had anything to prove. I’m sorry for not coming out and tell you that I forgave you. And I’m sorry for not asking for _your_ forgiveness. For acting like an asshole those first years.”

Damian nodded. He wasn’t going to say anything. He couldn’t say anything. So he just stood there, looking at Drake, and trying too hard not to start crying again, because he wasn’t going to let himself _live_ knowing he had cried in front of Drake _twice_ in a day. Twice in a _conversation_.

Hell, _twice in a lifetime_ would be too much.

But if he spoke his voice would break, and he would break. Because he hadn’t realized how much he needed this. To hear him say those words. To believe them. And Damian did. A part of his brain, the one that still sounded like his grandfather was screaming at him that this wasn’t worth it. That Drake’s forgiveness, his trust amounted to nothing. That this was his weakness speaking.

But then, another part of him was telling him that he had a brother. That Drake was his _brother_. And that realization came with so much fulfillment and awe that he didn’t knew what to do with himself. He hadn’t expected this conversation to end like this.

He hadn’t expected… anything, really.

“I’m going to hug you” Damian didn’t have the brainpower right now to process what Drake was saying so he let himself be maneuvered into an awkward embrace. Drake’s body felt foreign against his. It felt odd. But warm. And he smelled really good.

Not really, there wasn’t anything particularly unique about that smell. That green herbal soap he favored and the mint neutral shampoo, a bit of antiseptic from the gauze and then something else. Woody and forest-like. Different to Pennyworth’s cinnamon-y smell, or Grayson’s spicy peppermint scent. His was more… earthy. A bit like Father’s warm nutty, almond smell, but dialed up a little.

It was nice.

It felt homey.

He was surprised to remember that his mother smelled like that.

It was a terrifying thought, that Drake’s hugs reminded him of Mother.

He’d managed to calm himself and moved shaking his shoulders to get out of the embrace. “I can see it now. You’re going to be as insufferable as Grayson.” Tim moved back and looked at him while he made a mocking horrified sound.

“Never! Dick’s orders of magnitude more annoying. Now come here so I can pinch your cheeks.” he said raising his hands. Damian look honestly horrified for a second and jumped back, glad for the opportunity to jump away from Drake.

“Stay away from me.” He screamed and Drake had the gall to laugh at him. “Oh come on. Just one pinch.” He said bringing his fingers close to his face and making pinching moves and kissy faces. _Disgusting_. This was the man he’d just accepted as a _brother_.

He’s walking those thoughts back, _this instant._

“You were _so cute_ right now” he said and Damian spluttered.

“ _Cut_ … Say that again. I’ll finish Todd’s job, you monster.” He screamed while feeling his cheeks go red.

Drake just kept laughing grabbing the side of his abdomen. “Come on little Grinch. Accept it, you’re cute. If Jon could see you right now…” And that was it. That’s the line.

“Don’t you dare…” He yelled at him. _There’s mocking and then there’s threatening._ Jon… No, no one couldn’t hear about this. “This conversation doesn’t leave this room.” He sentenced. Drake seemed to notice his change in tune and said just as seriously “It won’t.” And sat in the bed, still with a smile on his lips.

Damian wasn’t sure what to do with himself right now. On one hand, he wanted to get away from Drake and not to see him again for ages. On the other hand, he feared that leaving now might revert them to a previous stage, and that this would become a single moment. He didn’t wanted that.

So he simply stood there. Drake seemed to realize that the atmosphere was getting uncomfortable as well, because he busied himself arranging the cushions and getting himself back on a comfortable position.

Damian looked around the room for anything to serve as a distraction and found the laptop, Drake was piggy-backing on the Batcomputer. He had the headcams of Batman and Red Hood as well as Nightwing’s and Black Bat’s bodycams in a divided screen.

“What are they doing?” he asked Drake begging for something to fill the air around them. “Hmm. Plan was to crash a Penguin party tonight. Looks like Batman and Nightwing are in place. Hood’s running late. Black Bat’s… somewhere in pursuit of a bank robber.” He answered. Being benched, he was cut from the mission briefings. Apparently, Drake wasn’t. Damian was about to complain about the unfairness of it, until it dawned on him that Drake was probably cut as well. So chances were Todd told him or, more likely, he had the Cave bugged.

“Brown’s running comms?” he asked coming closer to Drake and looking at the screens. “Nope. She’s taking the night off. They’re on Oracle’s network. B’s piggybacking on her for backup, and I’m piggybacking on him to-”

“Spy” he added.

“Assist” Drake amended throwing him a dirty look.

Damian simply rolled his eyes and tsked at him. He always enjoyed how everyone seemed to be offended by that sound.

They stayed there for a couple minutes talking and making small talk about the mission. He was surprised at how easy the environment had turned after their conversation. Drake was still annoying him, and Damian was still awed at the fact that such a simple mind had somehow managed to best his grandfather on a scheme.

But right now, he didn’t felt the need to fill the space with an insult or a jab.

It was easier.

-_-_-_-_-

One hour later, the team was returning from a successful mission, and Damian was still stuck in a discussion with Drake about how better to disarm a two cylinder gas bomb similar to the one the team had found. Damian was certain the proper disposal would be to deactivate each cylinder independently, and then defusing the dispersion method. Drake, on the other hand, was _wrong_.

They had made bets on how the team would deal with it. Grayson, the _traitor_ , had gone with Drake’s method.

“Come on, Dick used my method. It obviously shows it is superior.” Said Drake with a smug smile Damian wanted to use to wipe the floor.

“No. It _obviously shows_ I make a better Robin” said Damian with a smirk.

Drake actually laughed at that. “Dream on, kid. You’ve got ages to go. It goes Dick, then me, Jason, Steph, and _then_ you.” He counted with his fingers. Damian threw a glare at him because, _what?_ No way he’s the last one. And then, he saw an opening in Drake’s argument.

“tt. You’re delusional.” He replied “Brown has you and Todd beaten by leagues.” He said raising and eyebrow. _Come on, take the bait._

Drake shook his head. “Nah. She’s better as Batgirl than she was as Robin” and Damian smiled. He’d fallen for it _._

“Excuse _you_!” Said a voice from the door behind him and Damian smiled wickedly at Drake’s panicked face. Oh, this was going to be sweet. “I was a fucking ace as Robin.” She said entering the room.

Drake looked a little scared, but then he smiled and turned to her. “Better than the _Gremlin_ maybe; but I got you beaten there, babe.” He said smug and Damian growled, because Brown seemed placated.

_The bastard was charming her with a smile and a “babe”. Really? Come on Brown, where’s your pride?_

Steph came closer and crossed his arms “Ha. Are you still on meds? Cause it sounds like you’re still on meds.” She said mockingly.

“He’s delusional, Brown. He's always been.” Damian added, hoping to regain an ally to gang up on Tim.

_…_

_on Drake_ …

_His name is Drake._

Damian cursed under his breath.

_Shit. This family is ruining me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> So... I hope Damian didn't came too OOC in this story. I'm not entirely sure I liked the conversation. It felt a little rushed to me.
> 
> Only one chapter left. It's Tim's POV, as usual, it will be uploaded next Sunday.


	5. Tim's POV

“I talked with Damian yesterday”

In hindsight, maybe opening with that sentence wasn’t conductive to the discussion he wanted to have with his foster father and his elder brother. Considering their history together –something Tim has been forced to reevaluate considerably over the last 12 hours–, Tim could see how that sentence could lead to Dick’s disillusionment gaze and Bruce’s closed expression.

Usually, he talking with Damian ended with something broken, some broken body part, or the brochure of a boarding school being placed on every single desk Bruce owned. He’d been particularly proud of pulling that trick, _twice_.

“Hh. What was it now?” Dick said looking at him, as if apologizing. A couple hours ago, that face wouldn’t have bothered him; since it was usually _something_ when it came to the two of them. Now, he realized how much pressure they’d put on their family because of their bad blood.

He needed to change that.

“It wasn’t like that.” Tim said, measuring his words. He had a clear idea of what he wanted out of this conversation, but after thinking all night, he hadn’t come up with a proper exposition plan. It wasn’t like him, at all.

He’d normally have cards and a slideshow.

But the _need_ to act after his conversation with Damian last night had forced him to forgo any preparation and just talk with Bruce. Tim decided to simply start with the conclusion he’d arrived after yesterday’s events. “We talked and I…, I realized I’ve been unfair to him. I honestly thought our relationship had improved substantially in the last two years…”

“It has” Bruce cut, and Dick nodded. Yesterday, Tim would have agreed.

He would have been wrong.

“No it hadn’t. It was _static_. It was jammed by a lot of misunderstandings and assumptions of how our relationship was _supposed_ to be.” He said. He’d assumed, as Damian had, that their relationship was as best as it could have been; both of them assuming that this was as much as the other was willing to give to make it functional. Neither deciding to risk opening up to the other.

“We… It wasn’t fair of me to assume Damian was in the same page as I was. I was _arrogant_ , Dick. You were right, all those years ago, with the List. I…, I miscalculated how much _damage_ I caused and never took the time to address it.” It had been some food for thought last night.

He still believed Damian to be a risk. His actions could very easily lead him down a path of revenge and destruction that would put them in a position where the family would have to act against him. And even worst, Damian had a charm that wasn’t easy to ignore. Dick and Jon proved that. The Titans had proven that. He wasn’t _charismatic_ , but he was charming, and that made him dangerous. If truly motivated against the Family, Damian could create a schism within them. One that Jay had never been able to create, even in his worst days as the Hood.

Damian was dangerous and that needed to be taken into account. So, he didn’t exactly _regretted_ adding him to the List. After all, the list also included Clark, Kara and Oliver. All three people he liked.  He even considered Kara a friend. Not a _Titan-_ friend, but more than just a fellow hero.

And Clark was _Clark_. It was almost impossible to dislike Clark, if you were a hero. But Clark was dangerous. They all were dangerous. And there needed to be contingencies against them.

But, after yesterday’s conversation, he’d realized, that maybe Damian needed a particular contingency he hadn’t accounted for. Maybe his _family_ had to be the contingency. Maybe _he_ could be the contingency. His friendship and brotherhood could help further shape Damian’s future the way Dick had. The familiar bond could be the contingency that kept Damian in their side. Maybe treating him as the _brother_ he was, would be all it was needed to take Damian off that list _permanently_.

“And now…” asked Dick, looking at him with genuine curiosity and bringing him back to the conversation. _Now_. That was the question, wasn’t it? How to move forward?

Tim had no idea. Only that it wouldn’t be easy.

“We’re not going to become friends overnight, but I think we can work on it. We did clear the air.” They had. Tim couldn’t help but hate the fact that it took Jay hurting him to bring him closer to Damian. Had this not happened, would they had just remained in their strained relationship? Would he even have _tried_ to mend it?

Probably not.

“Why are you telling us this?” came Bruce’s voice from the other side of the table. Tim looked at him, Bruce had a puzzling look. Like he couldn’t fathom why Tim would be sharing this with them.

 “Come on, Bruce” Dick looked at Bruce with exasperation. Tim couldn’t help but smile at his brother. Of course sharing his feelings and improving his bond with his brother would be reason enough for _Dick_ to have this conversation. But Tim was more like Bruce than he liked to admit on a regular basis.

_He’s right, though. I did came to ask something of them. Of him._

“No. It’s fine.” He said “Actually I was leading to something, to ask for something.” He looked at Bruce and tried to organize his thoughts. “In our talk, I realized why Damian is so insistent on Jason’s guilt. I… I think you need to talk to him again Bruce. _And before you say anything_ , yes, it _has_ to be you. You need to talk to him about Jason, walk him through the scene and… and talk to him about why Jason’s innocence is important to you.”

Bruce was looking at him with the same look he gave in the WE meetings he was actually interested about. “What do you mean? He’s innocent. It’s not a matter of importance. It’s a matter of fact” he said. Tim breathed slowly, his side was starting to ache from being in the chair; so he stood and walked a little.

_What did he meant?_

His conversation with Damian had opened a line of thought Tim hadn’t expected, and it had ended up with him reevaluating a lot of his relationships with his family. Not only Damian’s. And Tim couldn’t shake the feeling that something needed to change.

Starting with eliminating Damian’s insecurities. His _need to be accepted_ , as Dick had called it ages ago. He’d thought they’d worked that out already, but apparently it ran deeper than that. But it had also brought something Tim hadn’t expected. A realization about Jay as well.

He sighed and looked at Bruce.

“I mean, that Jason stabbed me Bruce. He did. And Damian’s right, it _was_ an attack, it’s just that _I_ wasn’t the _target_ , and _he_ wasn’t in a state of mind to make him _liable_. But this wasn’t a simple reflex. It was _more_ than that.”  He’d chosen to ignore it, but he couldn’t anymore. Damian had had a point.

Not the one he _believed he had_ about Jay’s guilt, but the underlying complaint about their family…

He looked at Dick ready to jump in defense of Jay and decided to cut him; “I don’t think he tried to _kill_ me. I won’t hold this against him, Dick, trust me. But, Jason and I are going to have to work this out between ourselves; because it won’t go away just because we wish it would.”

And Tim swallowed because he knew this was true. He ought to have a conversation with Jay. Work out some sort of arrangement, because this couldn’t happen again. He’d meant it when he told Damian, he’d forgiven Jay, but they couldn’t just gloss over this and pretend it never happened. There had to be compromises on _both sides_ for them to be comfortable around each other.

And it was _both sides_. Jay was kicking himself too much for this already, and Tim needed to do something to assuage his guilt.

Starting with addressing whatever the hell Kon said to him.

Hopefully it wouldn’t require much, but it required _something_.

He mentally sighed and focused again on the topic at hand.

“Believe it or not, a thirteen year old former assassin isn’t too sharp on getting the nuances of our relationships and dynamics.” He said getting on with the point he wanted to make “Damian still needs you to explain to him why we’re _going_ _through_ with this. He wasn’t here before Jason died. He wasn’t here when you had to mourn the death of your son and how it affected you. He wasn’t here when Jason first attacked. He just gets our past from the stories we tell him. And he’s _relating_ to it on the _wrong_ aspects. He’s focusing on the _trust_ we give Jason and refuse to him. On the _compromises_ we make for Jason, while outright demand the opposite from him. He needs to hear from you why his older brother gets a special treatment you’ve refused for him.” Bruce was looking at him, but his eyes were no longer seeking an answer as much as mulling over something, probably measuring what he’d said with Bruce’s own ideas of what was going on with his son.

Dick was biting his lips and said “Maybe I should…” And Tim was expecting this. Dick was always ready to jump in and take care of Damian. He’d taken to him in a way he hadn’t with the rest of them. But that wasn’t the issue here.

“No.” he cut him off before Bruce could latch on any attempt to escape an emotional confrontation “I get that you’re a father figure to him. But this isn’t about you, Dick. He _knows_ at the end of the day you’re on _his_ side. He needs to know the _rest of the family_ will do the same. He needs a safe net. He needs the acceptance and trust of the rest of us. Not only as Robin, but as Damian. That if he screws up, as Jason did, he will still be trusted.” He took a deep breath and let Dick and Bruce mull over his words before continuing.

“He wasn’t mad about Jay attacking me… Not _too_ much. He was mad that Jason wasn’t _punished_ for stabbing me, while he was _benched_ for pointing it out. He was mad that something so evident to him was being ignored by the rest of us. He was mad that none of you _believed him_ when he was being ‘ _the rational one_ ’, but you supported Jason right after he _attacked_ me. As someone who’s been on the receiving end of this family’s disbelief, trust me, it hurts.” He knew that last part was a low blow to take on Dick, but if it let Bruce take care of this issue, it would be worth it. Dick would see in the end Tim was right about this.

Damian needed it.

And the rest of the family needed it too. _And maybe even the superhero community, if it ends up cementing Damian’s position in our side._ He mentally swatted that thought away. This was about his brother, not about his list.

“I’ll consider it, after patrol” was Bruce’s reply and dismissal along with a short nod. Tim smiled at him. Bruce changed topics and started questioning him about his health and Tim answered two questions before excusing himself.

Dick went out with him, leaving Bruce to focus on WE papers.

“What changed?” he asked halfway through their walk “With you and Dami. One conversation somehow doesn’t seem enough to gain such knowledge on Damian’s psyche.” Tim considered Dick’s question.

“You’d be surprised” he said dismissively, but Dick kept his gaze trained on him and he sighed “Dami came to my room yesterday. He… I thought it was going to be a fight, like usual, but he broke. I don’t know. I think Cass did something, he said… something weird.” He’d have to check with Cass what had happened between them.

Damian had tried to play coy when he’d mentioned her, and Tim had been too focused on getting an answer about Kon’s words; but later, thinking back on his conversation, he’d realized Damian had been too wired when he tried that little diversion. Something had happened between the two of them. Tim kind of wanted to find out.

“Anyway. We talked. I… I think he finally accepted me as his brother. Really accepted me.” He finished, turning at the corner and heading for his room.

Dick merely hummed thinking about it. “You really think Damian needs a reminder of Bruce’s trust in him? Cause you’re forcing _Bruce_ to talk feelings. Somehow, I doubt this will go the way you want it to.” Tim nodded, he was aware that it was a risk. Forcing Bruce to confront his feelings usually ended in an awkward, mostly one-sided conversation; but it would be a nice step towards fixing years of misunderstandings.  “Well. At least something good came of all of this, didn’t it?” Dick tried to play down his insecurities.

“We’ll have to see.” Tim said, going for a diplomatic approach. His head was starting to hurt and he was exhausted.

Maybe Bruce wasn’t the only one with emotional constipation. Nursing a stabbing wound was far preferable to having to deal with all these feelings.

He entered his room and stood there, considering if going for the laptop or the bed. Dick apparently didn’t had any doubts as he immediately sprawled on the bed, making sure to leave enough space if Tim actually wanted to lay down. Probably, expecting him to lay down. Still, he decanted for the laptop. He had some documents he wanted to look at.

“Tim.” Dick said in a voice that just bled of annoyance “You shouldn’t be working right now.” Tim considered if making a rude gesture was too rough, but decided to settle on ignoring him.

“Come on, Baby Bird. You need to be resting” he insisted getting up from the bed. Tim loved his brother. He really did. But he was tiresome sometimes.

“I’m fine, Dick. I need to check these WE documents for next week’s Board meeting” He said actually trying to force himself to read them. He knew patrol was far in the future. He’ll need Alfred’s clear which was difficult; and then he’ll need _Jay’s_ , which would be nearly impossible to get. So, he needed to focus on WE work. Fortunately, not much had happened in the last six days, but Tam had sent him some documents and he was determined to have them memorized for the next meeting.

He couldn’t be seen as if he wasn’t taking this job seriously. He already had enough with the media calling for his head for being a _20_ years old Board Member and quite frankly the _nepotism_ angle was starting to get old. Although, it worked for him when he’d go in a meeting where they expected an airheaded heir with zero business acumen. He took a very sadistic pleasure in _bulldozing them_ into respecting him with his sheer knowledge and technological expertise. Even Luthor’s people had had to grudgingly agree with many of his proposals, despite being held as the toughest negotiators in the business. It was starting to become less and less common as people started to respect him and talks about the _Wayne kid_ started becoming more widespread.

_Well, he will enjoy it while it lasts._

“Those documents will be there next week” Dick said coming to stand next to him. Tim sighed.

He knew Dick was five seconds away from snapping his laptop closed and once he do that; Tim would have to try and bite his fingers off for trying to touch his laptop, and then Dick would feel attacked and it would devolve into a fight that would probably end with him popping some of his stitches, then Alfred would have to come and he would get glared into submission.

And, he really didn’t wanted Alfred to glare at him, so… time for diplomacy.

“Let’s make a deal. You go to the kitchen and bring me a XXL dark coffee, in the meantime I read some of this documents; and when you come back, I’ll turn off the laptop and we’ll play some MK until you leave for patrol.” This will give him five to ten Dick-less minutes to focus and try to read through the core of the report.

Dick seemed to be mulling it over, and Tim hoped he caved. He knew he was probably concerning himself over the coffee thing, but Tim knew, and Dick did too, that he needed liquids. Regardless of the shape they took. Only alcohol and syrupy drinks were banned. Coffee (thank heavens) was allowed in his diet.

“Fine.” He said “But I call dibs on Skarlet” Tim smiled but couldn’t help the snort.

“Come on, you only choose her for her hair” he said. He knew it was true. Dick had complained about the lack of red-haired fighters in MK for a long time, and had actually held a MK-Party once it was announced that Skarlet would be joining the rooster. He’d downloaded her and hadn’t stopped playing with her since then.

“Come on, she’s hot and she’s good.” Again, a snort.

“Her X-Ray’s the weakest, and she loses blood with her attacks.” He answered to a retreating Dick. A ‘ _Ginger Hater’_ mocking scream came from the hallway and Tim actually laughed at that for a second before turning all his focus on the document. He needed to make those five minutes count.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Somehow, a relaxing two-people game of MK, turned into a four-bracket knockout tournament between all of them. He’d _owned_ Steph and Jay before losing the final to Babs of all people, who’d beaten Cass and Dick. Damian, Luke and Duke had all lost in the first round.

After their impromptu tournament, with Damian’s mandatory complain about the stupidity of the game and his constant commentary on how Tim was playing _wrong_ , and Steph’s long monologue on the sexism and misogyny inherent in the game (which he agreed with, although he didn’t risk verbalizing it lest Steph would take it as encouragement to take the game away from him) Tim was actually more tired than he’d expected and decided that after everyone left for patrol he wouldn’t stay up waiting for them, instead he’d catch some sleep.

Jay noticed this, and shooed everyone from the room, and Tim thanked him with a small peck on the lips that, instead of calming him, actually had him wanting for more. But, he wasn’t stupid enough to actually pursue it with his wound, so he turned around and took a short shower, put some PJs he had lying around and went for the bed.

He saw Jay had picked up after all of them and was sitting in a chair with a book in his hand, probably meaning to read until patrol time. The fact that he was sitting in the chair that was farthest from the bed didn’t go unnoticed and Tim sighed. _Right_. “You going to stay there?”

Jay looked at him and hummed “I’ll finish this and then head for my room. Thought you’ll enjoy the company.” Tim could hear the question on his voice. A question that had no place in that sentence. He put on a small tentative smile “I would enjoy it better if you were a little _closer_ ”.

Jay smiled slyly and moved the chair like a feet closer to him. “Like this?”

“Like 30 feet closer.” Tim said trying a provocative smile that he knew did wonders on Jay. As expected he smiled and stood up but half a second later he could see Jay overthinking about the scenario. _Assuage his guilt. That’s the first step._ “Why don’t you come here” he said patting the empty bedside “I don’t mind the lantern’s light.”

It was true enough. Jay always read himself to sleep. Even after patrol. Tim had learnt to fall asleep with the white light shining softly to his side.

“I know you don’t” said Jay, a little defensively, but still, standing _way_ too far for Tim’s liking.

“Then come here” he offered tossing the covers to entice him to get under them. Close to Tim. They hadn’t come closer than two feet since he woke up. That first kiss in front of his friends had been the only physical contact he and Jay had had in over four days. Ok, the only _romantic_ physical contact. Jay had touched him when changing his clothes and dressings a couple times. And the little pecks when they saw each other.

Tim decided those didn’t count.

“Tim…” Jay said with a warning that Tim hated.

“Listen Jay, I want you to come to bed with me. If I felt uncomfortable with it, I wouldn’t suggest it” he said huffing in his mind at his boyfriend’s antics.

“I…” He shifted in his feet and Tim sighed out loud this time.

“Just get in here, Jason.” He said in the same voice he used to give his Team an order. Tim was happy to see Jay comply.

He walked over, took of his boots and shifted in bed. The farthest he could from Tim. Still. He counted it as a win.

For like _five_ minutes.

Then _he_ was uncomfortable noticing how Jay was stiff as a rock and hadn’t even passed a page. He looked at the cover to find it was a copy of Martha Brewster’s poems and letters. A book he knew Jay had read thousands of times. One he knew the older man knew by heart and wouldn’t just sit there and stare for five whole minutes without moving.

So, Jay was just uncomfortable. With him.

That _hurt_.

Tim turned a little to focus on Jay’s face. Tim saw Jay was aware Tim was looking at him by the way his eyes had twitched and remained focus on a point in the paper.

“Jay” he said, and Jay hummed softly without looking “Do you want to leave?” He was moderately afraid of the answer, but it was the only thing Tim could think of right now to make Jay give him a reaction. As expected he dropped his pretense and looked at him with sad eyes.

“No” he said. His voice didn’t waver, and Tim could see Jay was telling him the truth. He pressed a little more.

“Would you feel... more… _comfortable_ away from me?” He said struggling to find the right words not to spook Jay, nor to drive him into an angry tantrum. He was prone on those whenever feelings were the subject of a conversation.

“No” he said again, this time with a little more force. Tim sat on the bed and moved closer to him. He decided to risk a little and threw a new question, this one with a lot of suggestion into his voice. “Can I kiss you?”

Jay’s bad attempt at keeping the surprise, and then the little smile from his lips were adorable and Tim found himself biting his lips to force himself not to launch himself at Jay. That would be bad for his injury, and terrible for the little safe zone he’d managed to create with the previous questions. It would close Jay off if he acted too quickly now. He needed to be slow, soft and persistent to have those walls Jay had put up brought down.

Jay’s single nod was permission enough and he moved slowly covering the small space between them in a single movement. He was pleasantly surprised to notice Jay moving closer to him. At least he didn’t had to make all the moves himself. Jay was willing to meet halfway.

Now if he only could make this a metaphor for the rest of the items in his list; that would be _great_.

But. He didn’t had time to think about that, because then Jay’s lips were on his, and Jay trapped his lower lip with his and made that growling possessive sound he made whenever he kissed Tim after sex, and Tim’s mind went blank.

Not exactly blank. More like, in sensory overdrive. Because suddenly all he could feel were those lips against his, rubbing against each other, pressing demandingly against his. Tim could map every crevice and mark on Jay’s cracked lips with his own. And then Jay’s wet hot tongue was pressing against his bottom lip and Tim moaned against it giving it a welcome entrance to his mouth.

Jay knew every inch of Tim’s mouth, and he knew how to force the most embarrassing noises out of his throat with as little as the right pressure, the right touch. And Tim was falling so hard for it he didn’t even cared about anything else. After a couple seconds, he bit Jay’s tongue a little to force it back, so he could invade Jay’s mouth and return the amazing feeling.

He was getting so lost in it he didn’t realize he had laid back into the mattress until he felt a shift in Jay’s weight and realized he was flat on his back and Jay was straddling him. He felt the mattress sink on the weight of Jay’s knees at both sides of his hips and he felt the heat irradiated from Jay’s body burn his entire chest.

Jay’s mouth was moving away from him and Tim groaned at the emptiness. He opened his eyes, after realizing he had closed them sometime into the kiss. And looked at Jay, a couple inches away from him, with a beautiful pink hue adorning his face and a breathless look. His lips were red and full and Tim wanted nothing other than having them pressed against him again.

“I really like kissing you” he said catching his breath and moving his hand to cover Jay’s cheek, while the other one slipped behind his neck to stop his retreat. “I’ve missed this” he said.

“Me too” said Jay coming closer again. Instead of an intense breath taking kiss, he went from his lips down to his jawline leaving a trail of soft wet kisses that had Tim fighting to take a breath “I love you, so much” Jay said between kisses.

“I love you too, babe” he said bringing Jay up again and catching his lips on a full deep kiss. His hands moved from Jay’s hair down to his chest, to rest finally around his hips, locking Jay on top of him. Jay’s hand also started moving, mapping his face, his neck and his chest. He loved the feeling of those big strong hands touching him, marking him.

He moved his hips up causing a lovely shiver on Jay’s body as his bodies came in contact. Tim moaned Jay’s name against his lips refusing to let those delicious treats move away from him. He tried to move his hips up again to cause another shiver from Jay…

But then Jay’s knees moved up at the same time, and he ended up hitting Tim’s side, which would have been totally fine with Tim, had it not reminded his body about his injured side.

The knee had hit exactly on the swollen stitches and Tim let an involuntary groan of pain as his hand shot to move the invading knee from his sensitive skin.

Tim immediately realized his involuntary response had been the wrong one, because Jay jumped several feet away from him, ending up at the base of the bed. Tim would have laugh it up, and continued kissing Jay. But the flash of pain froze him as he doubled a little.

“Shit. Oh, Shit I’m sorry” Jay’s panicked voice eliminated the feeling of pain from Tim and he looked up to see Jay’s eyes fixed on his bandages. _Crap._

“It’s ok. Jay. It was nothing” he said trying to calm him down. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Jay was supposed to kiss him senseless and then relax enough to let him cuddle himself to sleep by his side. Not have half a panic attack from a stupid horny accident.

“No. I’m… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have. God, I shouldn’t have…” Jay was moving away from the bed and towards the door muttering those sentences that were making Tim feel like shit for trying to pressure Jay into this.

“Jay calm down, it’s nothing” he said coming from under the covers and cutting his exit.

“It’s not nothing.” Jay said looking at him with sad pleading eyes and deep self-hatred and anger in his voice “I keep hurting you, over and over again. I…” He was gesturing over his abs, to his bandages. Tim move closer, but Jay started backtracking to grab his jacket, which was in the chair Jay had been sitting earlier.

The chair that Tim shouldn’t had asked him to move from.

_Stupid._

“Jay, please, look at me. I’m fine.” He said moving closer to him. He needed Jay to calm down and to realize he hadn’t actually hurt him. That it was just his oversensitive nerves around the wound. That he wanted them to go back to bed and forget all about it. He walked until Jay was in his reach, and tried to grab him, but Jay swatted him away.

“Stay away from me” he said, not screaming or scared just… hurt. And it pained Tim to see him like this, not trusting himself around him. He tried to say something but Jay was already regretting touching him “Jesus, baby bird, I can’t…” he looked lost and then turned around and moved for the window. A quick escape.

“Jason, stop.” He said trying to prevent Jay from going through the window, he knew if he let him go, chances were, Jay wouldn’t come back or talk to him in a couple days. Probably until he was healed. And he’ll dive into that particular brand of self-deprecation that seemed to be so common amongst the Bats.

“I… I need to… I’m sorry…” he said before jumping and disappearing into the night.

Tim cursed out loud looking at the open window and the retreating figure of his boyfriend. He’ll have to send Dick on his trail.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Turns out Dick was useless as a hound.

_No wonder he named himself after a bird._

Ok. That wasn’t fair.

Jay was very good at covering his tracks. And if he didn’t wanted to be found, he wouldn’t.

But Tim needed someone to place the blame, and right now Dick was the perfect candidate. If he wasn’t such a lousy hound, Tim would be in his bed, with his boyfriend by his side. Not parking a motorcycle in the middle of an alley while clutching his side to prevent his guts from decorating the sideway of the tenement building he had broken into.

And then there were the stairs he had to climb. Tim was sure he’d popped a stitch coming up to the third floor. And maybe Dick wasn’t the one to blame. Maybe Jay was.

Stupid Jay… No, stupid _Jason_ for selecting stupid lofts in the seventh floor of stupid elevator-less buildings.

That was just a poor _stupid_ choice.

_What if he was injured, how was he supposed to get up seven stories, without an elevator he can safely pass out on?_

God, Tim wanted to pass out.

He started the sixth floor trek thinking about the things he wanted, to keep up with the climb.

_Coming in Dick’s Ducati had been a bad idea._

Focus. Things he wanted.

He wanted Jay.

He wanted to be in his arms.

He wanted to kiss him and make him forget this.

He wanted to _punch him_ for making him do this.

He wanted… He wanted a Percocet. Or a Fentanyl. God, right now he’ll even take a _blunt_ if someone offered it to him. He was sure he’d popped at least four of those stitches.

He arrived at Jay’s last safehouse. The one no one else knew about.

And he _better_ be in this one because Tim’s passing out. And he’ll pretty much rather jump down a window than having to walk down those stairs again.

He started banging on the door.

“Jason.” Silence.

He banged again.

“I know you’re here. Open up.” He screamed. He was pretty sure _Jason_ was there.

Like 94% sure.

Maybe _86_ , if Dick hadn’t actually taken the time to check with the Outlaws to see if he had gone with them. Chances he had were low, and chances Dick didn’t call were even lower, but… Tim hadn’t confirmed before coming, so yeah.

86%. _That was good enough._

He knocked again feeling his anger rise at the thought of having to go back down those stairs and climb on Dick’s bike.

“Come one, asshole. I think I busted the stitches. And if I did, you’re the one explaining to Alfred why I had to track you for half of Gotham in a motorcycle and drag myself up for seven _fucking_ -” he didn’t finished because the door opened and _Jason_ appeared behind it.

“Please tell me you didn’t _actually_ came in a bike.” He said. And…

_Fuck you, Jason, that’s no way to greet you boyfriend._

He thinks he manages to convey both that feeling and the answer because _Jason_ sighs and mutters a “God Tim” in that exasperated voice he uses when he thinks Tim’s being irrational. Which is not a thought Tim wants him thinking right now because he’s mad at Jay- _Jason_.

“You look like shit” he says instead.

Mostly because Jay does. His skin is pasty and white, like he hasn’t left his room in the three days he’s been holed up here. And he’s got bags under his eyes, so chances are he’s not sleeping. And he’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing when he jumped of Tim’s window, so chances are, he hasn’t showered or taken them of. And he’s sporting a three-day beard, which is completely unappealing in his face.

So yeah. He looks like crap.

And Tim’s not feeling sorry for him because he thinks he’s bleeding out after driving Dick’s Ducati and dragging himself seven flights of stairs, and he’s been worrying sick for the past 72 hours, so _Fuck Jay for being a shitty boyfriend, he deserves to look like shit._

“I…” he starts to say, and Tim beats him. “ _You_ are an idiot.” Jay closes his mouth. _Good “_ You are an _idiot_ who wasn’t answering his phone. And Dick’s going _crazy_ looking for you all over Gotham.” And he doesn’t leave much chance for rebuttal in his answer, but still, apparently _Jason_ believes he’s earned something because he tries.

“Tim…” he says, and once again, Tim’s not having it. “No. You don’t get to fight me on this one. You’re an idiot” he says. He’s pretty sure _Jason_ ’s chastised enough so he stays there waiting for something, but he’s not giving him anything, so Tim sighs.

“Just let me in. I don’t wanna bleed out on your door.” _Jason_ moves to the side leaving enough room for Tim to walk in, so he does, and as he passes him Jay moves to help him but second guesses himself so Tim just takes his arm to support himself and looks up to the face of his boyfriend.

And he’s so relieved he’s fine that he forgets for a second how stupid that _idiot of his_ is and moves to kiss him humming pleasantly against those lips. Jay doesn’t move and Tim backs down and murmurs “Idiot” one more time before limping himself into the loft.

Tim’s surprised to find the loft is actually really clean, which is unfair because his own room is in a state of disarray and if Jay’s feeling like shit, the place should reflect it. But _no_ , of course _Jason_ would skip on a shower, but focus on bleaching the ceramic floor on the kitchen.

_Idiot_.

He goes to the black couch, the only place in the room that actually looks lived in and drops in it and decides whether passing out is an appropriate action right now.

“Do you have a stapler here?” he asks, because _Jason_ might be an idiot, but his side is really bothering him, and he needs to close it back up before he really injures himself.

Jay ran to the kitchen and brought back a large medical kit. “Lose the shirt” he orders, and Tim did his best to comply. Jay looked at him “Shit. You’re really bleeding.”

Tim’s glare had to have been enough for him to realize that _No shit, Sherlock._ Because he shut his mouth and started working on removing the bandage, cleaning, stapling and redressing the wound. Fifteen minutes later, Tim was laying down shirtless on the couch while Jay cleaned up.

It gave Tim enough time to calm down and actually focus on what he was going to do. “Do you want something?” Jay asked.

“For you to stop acting like an asshole” Fine. So he hadn’t calmed down completely. His boyfriend had disappeared from the face of the earth for 72 hours. He’d stopped answering his texts. And now he basically refused to look at him in the eyes. He felt pretty justified. “Come on, babe.” Came Jay’s voice, a little broken as he moved to the kitchen.

Tim found it hard to stay mad at him.

“Don’t go.” He said. Jay stopped and Tim looked at him.

Trying to assess what was going in his mind. He found it was hard to do it, as Jay was pointedly looking away from him. He noticed the strain on his shoulders and his defensive posture. Tim mentally sighed and decided that he didn’t wanted this to continue. He hadn’t come all the way to this loft to attack him… “Jay. We should talk.”

The change was instantaneous. Full defensive. Hundreds of layers of mental barriers raising. And the most definitive one was Jay finally holding Tim’s gaze. Looking at him as if he was in costume. “I… Yeah. Yes, we do.”

Tim sat straight and invited Jay next to him while he put his shirt back. Jay walked slowly and sat, as far away to him as possible, again. Tim prevented the sigh to come out and organized his thoughts. “Should I go first?” he asked and Jay nodded briefly.

Tim nodded too, trying to think what he wanted to say. In his room at the Manor, there was a notepad with over 15 bullet points organized in matter of importance of the things he had to go over. He’d forgotten that pad. And now…

Tim sighed out loud this time.

“I… I had a whole speech prepared, and suddenly I can’t remember a thing I wanted to say.” He confessed. Jay’s closed face didn’t help.

First thing was to convince him of the importance of establishing contingencies so that this didn’t happened again. Hopefully this would lead to talking about Kon and Jason’s guilt so they can built over this.

“I… I think is safe to say that what happened last week… I can’t ignore it. _We_ can’t ignore it Jay.” Tim said looking at Jay, he noticed him softly nodding and his face falling for a second. He needed to address that guilt. “It… it made me reconsider a lot of things. I’ve been thinking about us and… I think it would be a good thing to make some changes, maybe some _compromises_ moving forward to address this. We need to use this to strengthen…”

“Wait, wait stop. _Moving forward_?” Jay cut him and Tim saw his furrowed brow and the questioning in his voice. Tim felt a little irritation, but quelled it really fast. Jay couldn’t actually _believe_ they could continue without actually talking about this and changing things.

“Yes, we need compromises, Jay. I don’t think we…”

“You’re not breaking up with me?” Jay said and Tim stood there with his mouth open struggling to get the next word out… _what?_

“What?” he asked. _Break up?_

“I thought… I… You want to stay with me?” Jay was looking at him with honest surprise. Like he’d expected a completely different scenario in his mind and Tim had to agree with him on that, because he hadn’t expected to talk about breaking up. The idea hadn’t even been part of his thought process in the last week. A scenario where he and Jay broke up because of this hadn’t even came up in his mind.

_Timothy “I have a contingency for that” Drake_ had failed to see this coming, and it hurt quite a lot.

“You wanna break up?” he asked and didn’t even bother to cover the hurt in the voice.

Jay opened his eyes and quickly replied “God, no. I… I love you, but.” He looked at Tim and continued with a soft and calmed voice that Tim knew meant he was trying hard to keep his feelings locked. “Tim, I hurt you. Bad. And… When I awoke, after… that. When I realized what I’d done… I thought I’d killed you. I was sure of it, for a second there, I actually _believed_ I’d killed you and it _broke_ _me_. Cass had to… I don’t know. Snap me back into reality, because I was gone. I’d gone to a dark place. And… yesterday night, when I hit you…”

“Three days ago” Tim said without being able to reign his tongue. He cursed when he realized he’d cut Jay’s train of thought. “What?” he asked again looking lost. Tim looked at him, and he really appeared to believe he’d only been in this safe house for a day.

“You’ve been gone for three days.” He said. And Jay’s mouth made a little _oh_ shape for a second before his face reddened a little as he said “I didn’t realize”. Tim smiled softly.

He really was a sap who couldn’t stay mad at his idiot boyfriend when he looked like this, all confused and sorry.

“Yeah. Dick’s been looking for you like crazy. _I’ve_ been worrying like crazy” Jay looked ashamed and Tim wondered what he’d been doing to miss two whole days. Tim moved his hand closer and squeezed Jay’s thighs to convey that it wasn’t that serious. But still. He was a little worried about the whole, let’s break up thing, so he moved closer and looked at him trying to lead him back into the conversation.

Jay got his message, as he continued “Yeah… I had to leave. Babe, I can’t… I can’t hurt you. I can’t… I couldn’t live with myself if I were to… If we hadn’t been at the Manor... _Have you thought of that?_ If this had happened in your place, or mine. No one would have come. I would have stabbed you, and I would have frozen, and you would have _died_. Have you thought about that?” Tim had. He’d been so glad to see Bruce’s face that morning, telling him that it was going to be ok. Guiding him through the daze of the scopolamine and calming him. Seeing him there was enough to make him realize everything would be alright.

So, of course he’d thought about what would have happened had he not been in that house. If, for instance, it had happened in this safe house, none of the other bats would have known where to look for them. He would have bleed out before he’d gotten to the Manor.

Still. _Assuage his guilt._

“But it didn’t.” Tim said “I am fine. And it isn’t your fault.” He moved a little closer, keeping his hand in Jay’s leg. Jay started shaking his head.

“Tim… You’re not safe with me. You need to stay away.” Jay said, and Tim wanted to laugh, because really, that was almost word by word the same thing Kon had said months ago, when he told him about going forward with this relationship. Back then, he’d flipped on Kon and after two weeks of passive-aggressive talks, Kon had agreed to back off.

Apparently, that agreement had been broken, and Tim would have to try and convince Kon again that Jay wasn’t a danger to him. _Kon AND Jay, apparently_. Tim wondered if the same argument with Kon would work on Jay.

Somehow, a quite profane version of: _It’s my life. Deal with it_ didn’t seem the appropriate response here.

“Jason. Honestly. I _tried_ staying away from you before. We tried the whole _ignoring the feeling_ thing already. It _didn’t_ work, evidently” he said with a smile. “But… I agree that we can’t go to how things were. And, believe it or not, I don’t wanna be hurt by you. It sucks. It _really_ sucks; and I’m not talking just about the wound. And, I _know_ you don’t wanna hurt me. Hence, the changes and compromises.” He said trying to go back to the point he wanted to make.

“Tim, I” Tim had about enough of this conversation, so he decided a little ultimatum was worth it. He put his _this is enough_ face on _._

“Jay, I’m not letting you go without a fight. So your chances are, a) we talk this now and move on; or b) you break up with me, I refuse, we go into a couple months of angsty _will they, won’t they;_ before you cave in, and _then_ have this talk and move on. Honestly, the only upside of option B would be the amount of Make-Up sex we’d have; I mean, I would ride you _dry_ if you make me go through that.” He smiled at Jay’s furious blush, and if the strain on Jay’s thigh was anything to go by, his face wasn’t the only part of his body that was suddenly getting a rush of blood.

He had to force himself not to lower his sight to confirm his suspicion. It wouldn’t do to get a boner right now. Once Jay got his blush under control, he stared at Tim. He knew his boyfriend didn’t like the idea of an ultimatum, let alone one that actually didn’t gave him an out. But Tim knew he was right. The only way this _break-up_ would end, would be with a couple months of angst before they realized they actually loved each other and went back together.

They’d danced around each other for nearly two years before giving up and getting together. Jay had tried to push him away after their first kiss, and Tim had agreed at first, then he’d realized he was just fighting a losing battle, so he’d given up and accepted his feelings. Warming his way into tearing down those walls.

So, he simply met Jay’s stare with a soft smile. Jay sighed loudly and Tim smile grew.

_Victory_

“I _do_ love you” Jay simply said, and Tim smiled.

“That’s been established” he said smugly. Jay huffed indignant and moved to kiss Tim, a chaste touch of the lips, Tim pressed back with a little more force into it. This time it was Jay who moved closer to Tim and he welcomed the chance to let their legs touch and generally feel the warmth of Jay’s body close to his.

“So… what kind of changes?” Jay said after a second.

Tim nodded, focusing back on his earlier bullet points. “Well. I don’t have it all planned out. I… just a couple of thinks we could try out.” He said looking at Jay “First, would be _no weapons on the bed_. I know you won’t like it, but you’ve slept without your weapons on my place before. And the nightmares didn’t came. So, we could try it… maybe find a way to make you feel safe other than the Kris under the pillow.” He noticed Jay was unsure about this. The weapon thing was key for Tim, and he knew in the long run, Jay would come to be more relaxed about being together in bed if there was no knife or gun in the bed.

Still, they had talked about this before. Jay had always complained about it. Particularly when staying somewhere that wasn’t one of his safe houses. The Kris, particularly would be hard. Removing the guns from the bed had been a huge victory for Tim about a month ago; but the Kris was a safety blanket for Jay, so giving it up would require some convincing.

But, it was also truth that they’d slept before with no weapons. Although, in fairness…

“I… I’ve only done that when I pass out, either drunk or… after… making love to you.” Jay reminded him, and Tim grinned and raised an eyebrow at the shy phrasing. “I don’t mind the second one” he said.

Jay grinned wickedly. “Is that the compromise? You ride me silly every night?” he said wiggling his eyebrows. Tim laughed softly hugging his wound to prevent the stitches to come out. “I can work with that” he said. Jay laughed a couple seconds before moving his hand and touching Tim’s arm. That movement showed Tim that he’d scored another victory. He was in a roll today.

“I… Yeah. We’ll… I can do that. No weapons. I can… I can do it.” Jay said looking at him in the eyes and nodding slowly to himself. Tim braced himself. He knew the next one had a chance not to go as well.

“I… I would also like you to try therapy” he said. Jay’s reaction was immediate. He removed his hand from Tim, his spine straightened immediately, and quite frankly he looked like Tim had just slapped him.

“Tim” he said with a tight voice, and Tim could hear the anger bubbling behind it.

“Jay, only a try…” he tried.

“Tim, no.” Jay said, and normally that voice would indicate that a topic was over, but Tim wasn’t about to let this point go. He knew that Jay was sensitive about his mental health, but Tim also knew that a lot of the issues he had weren’t things you could just let go. He needed someone to talk about this.

“Just…” he tried, but Jay cut him off and stood from the couch moving away in obvious anger.

“No. Tim, we talked about this. I’m not going to a _fucking_ shrink.” He said not looking at him. Tim tried again. “Just a session.” He said standing too.

“No” Jay said crossing his arms. To anyone else, the sight of Jay looking them angry and crossing his arms, would be a threatening look. To Tim, it was a block. A glorified pout. He held his angry gaze and with a slightly exasperated voice he asked “Would you at least consider it?”

The tick on Jay’s eyes was a good indicator, so Tim held his gaze for a couple seconds. Jay broke and untangled his arms as he said “Tim, don’t make me do this.” Tim sighed loudly.

“I won’t make you do anything. If you decide not to go, we’ll work something else.” He came closer to Jay. “But… Just promise me you’ll think it over. Don’t reject it out of hand.” He pleaded. Jay looked at him and bit his lower lip.

“I… I can’t promise you I’ll go anywhere.” He said, and Tim almost smiled at the tone, because he knew Jay was willing to make a concession. “But… maybe… I’ll ask around, see if someone comes up that I can trust.” Tim smiled and nodded.

“I’ll take it. Thanks, babe” he came closer and give Jay a little peck. He had five other topics, about where to stay, improving their relationship with the family and spending more time with each other’s friends. All of which would prevent different aspects of last week’s backlash. But that could wait. He didn’t wanted to overwhelm Jay, and he’d gotten the two concessions that would directly prevent a situation like last week’s, and could ground their relationship. He could talk about the other aspects, once he was back on full health and the guilt of the attack didn’t hung so heavy between them.

Jay moved them back on the couch and Tim decided that he didn’t wanted anything else about this conversation, so… it was time to move on the next part. “Now, about me.” He said.

“What about you?” Jay looked at him questioningly with his head a little tilted. He knew it was a gesture Jay had started to get from him and that warmed his heart.

“What would you want me to do?”  He explained and Jay kept the questioning glance like he didn’t understood what this was about. Tim smiled and caressed his three-day beard, it felt odd against his fingers. ‘ _I could get used to this feeling.’_ He thought before addressing Jay’s question. “Babe, it’s a compromise, not terms of surrender. What do you need from me to make this work? To make it easier, make you more comfortable?” he said and Jay actually looked surprised. Which was cute. Something he’d never said out loud unless he wanted Jay huffing and walking away from him with a blush.

But Jay right now was surprised and confused, and he said as much. “I… you’ve done… I mean. You’re _taking me_ , Tim. What else can I ask from you?” he said.

“Anything you want. Anything you need.” Tim said softly “Jay, this isn’t a one-way thing. I’m not _taking_ you. We’re _together_.” Jay bit his lips, like he was considering whether he should tell him, and Tim nodded encouraging him to say it.

“One thing, then. For the nightmares. ” Jay said and Tim shuffled in the seat to listen Jay “Don’t touch me. You have to promise it. I can do the no weapons thing. But a badly placed punch. A choke hold. There are hundreds of ways I could hurt you, that I could kill you, even without a weapon.” Tim knew Jay was right. He’d thought about this too. They even had talked about this before.

Jay had warned him about his reactions to being waken roughly or even being touched while in a nightmare. Tim knew about this. It’s why he thought that Jay wasn’t entirely to blame about this whole mess. He’d screw up too. He was sleepy and he was worried about Jay’s tossing, and his mind had forgotten the warnings. And then, his sleepy body hadn’t been fast enough to dodge. If he’d been more aware, this mess could have been avoided.

So… no touching. He could do this. “No touching.” He nodded “How do I wake you, then?” he asked, because that had been the other thing he’d wondered. How to make it stop.

“Just let me go through it.” Jay said, and Tim’s face must have shown how he felt about that suggestion, because Jay added “Or talk to me. You voice helps. But no touching. Ever.” Tim nodded again.

“I… I can work with that. Anything else?” he asked. It would be hard, the no touching thing. But Jay agreed to the weapons, so he could also work with the nightmare thing. Actually Jay didn’t had that many nightmares now, so he can work with that.

Jay thought for a second and nodded again “Yes. A safety net.” He said “We install some safety protocol in the houses. Voice activated, that sends an alert to everyone that one of us needs help. And we stock the houses with medical equipment to treat serious injuries. Not just the basic. Real equipment.” Tim smiled at Jay. That was one of the things he’d written in his bullet points.

“I think we should have that in all houses. For all Bats. I’ll talk to Babs and Bruce about it.” Jay nodded and swallowed. Tim went in full alert because that meant whatever came after this was the real condition Jay wanted to make.

“One more thing. A promise.” He said. “If this happens again…” And Tim couldn’t help cutting him with a soft “Jay”.

“Listen to me.” He started again “If this happens again, you leave me. You dump me. I leave and you don’t come looking for me.” He looked at him directly, and Tim knew this was a _not negotiable_ clause for Jay.

_Too bad, because he’s not having it._

“The idea of having this conversation is that it won’t happen again.” He tried to reason. He wasn’t about to agree to leave Jay for some future condition that may or may not happen. And that it might be as absurd as this one. He wasn’t just letting some stupid nightmare break them up.

But then, Jay simply replied “Then you shouldn’t have a problem agreeing.” And Tim had dug himself in a hole here.

It was true enough. He thought it for a second.

_Could he be sure enough that this conditions he was working on would be enough to prevent something like this from happening?_ Yes. Sure enough.

_Was that security enough to promise a break up in case something went wrong?_ No. But that was mainly because he didn’t wanted to put a condition that might end their relationship.

But then again, if he could just _condition_ the condition… Maybe…

“Fine.” He agreed “But only if it’s a serious attack. Not a sleepy hit, or a fight over something stupid.” He said.

Jay looked a little relieved and said “Ok.” And Tim said, immediately. “And I get to define what constitutes as a _serious_ attack.” That would be enough for Tim.

“…” Jay glared at him but said nothing, so Tim smiled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It wasn’t” Jay said, and Tim immediately replied. “It wasn’t a no either.”

Jay looked at him “Tim. You won’t stay with me if I hurt you again. That has to be a promise”

Tim shook his head. “I get that. But you tend to overreact when it comes to me getting hurt.”

“I do not.” Jay said indignant and narrowing his eyes with a glare. Tim just rolled his eyes.

“Babe, you locked yourself in for _three_ _days_ because you bumped against my wound.” He said.

“I- That’s different.” Tim grinned at the _Touché_ voice and light flush in Jay’s face. Jay was too emotional about him. Too overprotective with him. And Tim knew that if he accepted, Jay would use any fight or harm come to him as an excuse to delve into a barrage of self-deprecation.

“It’s not. You’re protective of me, and I love you for it, but I won’t let you go just because you _feel_ you’ve hurt me. If this happens again, and I feel that our relationship is hurting me; I’ll agree with you. But I get to decide that. I get to decide when you’re too much for me” He said. Jay didn’t look too pleased, but Tim didn’t care. He’d already agreed.

Time to change the subject.

“Now that we agree on the basics, we can continue this later.” He said coming closer to Jay and giving him a soft kiss that was greedily reciprocated. He took a step back and looked at Jay. “You stink. Go shower, while I order some take-out. I didn’t eat this morning.” He said shooing Jay into the bathroom. Jay just smiled and turned around mumbling something about manhandling and why he puts up with Tim.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Tim bites into the turkey sandwich, munching slowly.

He wants to sigh and curse. He knows he’s about to be smothered and scolded at the same time, and all he wants is to be left alone.

Well, not alone, alone. Alone with Jay.

But the shadow’s moving towards the window, and Tim knows it will be less than a minute before he’s going to have to explain himself.

_The window_ … A thought floats through Tim’s head and he swallows fast.

“Hey Jay” he sees his boyfriend looking at him with half a sandwich in his hand “Are the windows booby-trapped?” he turns to look at his boyfriend who tilts his head confused.

“Yeah, why?” he asks. Tim raises his chin pointing at the tinted window, where the shadow’s starting to mess with the handle. Tim bites into his sandwich again as Jay curses loudly before screaming “Dickhead, stop.”

The shadow of his brother freezes in the window as Jay comes closer. “The handle’s rigged with shrapnel” he says, and Tim flinches. _That’s rough_. “Come through the fire-escape. East side” his boyfriend says and the shadow disappears while his boyfriend disappears to the east side of the loft.

Probably to disable the fire-escape booby-trap.

Tim swallows and bites again into the sandwich, munching slowly.

He doesn’t wanna have that confrontation. He’s sleepy and tired. And he probably shouldn’t have had a bike-ride, followed by seven flights of stairs, followed by a long heart to heart, followed by a hot shower, followed by a whole turkey foot-long sandwich.

He’s so sleepy, his head is floaty and he just wants to finish his sandwich

He doesn’t want the shadow to come in and become Dick. Because, Dick’s probably mad at him, and Tim just doesn’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

He takes another bite and turns when he hears muffled voices. Fighting.

Dick and Jay are fighting.

_He’s too tired for this._

The bickering’s moving closer and Tim’s resigning himself. Still, when two hands wrap around him and manhandle him into raising his shirt, he’s less annoyed and more curious.

Still, he’d like a reason, so he decides to try a snarky comment. “Jay’s the only one that gets to undress me, Dick”

“Shut up.” Dick said, and Tim registered the annoyance in his voice. He was probably worried and mad that Tim had taken his bike to ride here, that he’d rode here, and that he’d done that without telling anyone “He said you popped some stitches” was all the explanation he got.

And it did explain why he was digging through his bandages.

“Yeah. He stapled me back on.” Tim said swatting Dick’s hands from his wound and putting his shirt back on. Dick simply hums noncommittally and turns to glare at Jay. They start shouting and Tim simply blocks them while he finishes his sandwich and the coleslaw salad, leaving the fries on the side.

“Back me up, Tim” said Dick. Tim had no idea what he had to back him up with, and quite frankly he didn’t care. Jay was doing his “ _You’re lucky I left my gun_ ” face and Dick was crossing his arms in a “ _righteous indignation_ ” stance.

Tim sighted loudly.

“I am severely decaffeinated to deal with this shit” he announced. He needed coffee.

“Can you drink coffee? With that wound?” came Jay’s concerned voice. Tim would think it’s cute, if he weren’t using that voice to cut him from his coffee. Dick was annoyed, so he’d probably jump to contradict him, leaving Tim free to prepare some coffee.

Half a second later, Tim was proven right. “Yes he can. He needs liquids.” Dick said “And if you’d been with him, as any _boyfriend_ would, you would know that.” Tim missed Jay’s reply when he entered the kitchen. Dick was right about that one. And if Jay hadn’t been swimming in guilt, Tim would actually held that against him. Knowing what he was allowed to drink and eat while recovering was, like, Care for Your Injured Boyfriend 101.

He didn’t mind, though. Right now all he needed was a big cup of coffee to cut through the haze.

He put the water, filled the filter and watched the black beverage collect slowly on the glass pot. Halfway through the second cup he came out again. Far more alert. Jay and Dick were sitting on the table. Jay was eating his own chicken sandwich and Dick was finishing Tim’s fries.

They obviously were still mad at each other. Tim found out that even with the coffee he didn’t care.

“How did you find me?” he asked Dick.

He looked up at him and then smiled. “You came in my Ducati” Tim hummed. Of course the Bike was bugged. He felt a little guilty about burning Jay’s last hidden safe house.

“I still can believe you did that.” Jay murmured and Tim rolled his eyes behind him and let the guilt go away.

_Asshole deserves having his hideout burnt_.  

“It _was_ reckless” Dick chastised and Tim stuck out his tongue at him in a childish way that had Dick smiling. Then one look at Jay had him sullen up again. Tim mentally sighed.

He’d been sighing too much lately. He needed a break from the Family.

He needed the Titans.

That reminded him of _Kon_. Jay had mentioned something about psychopatic murderers and Tim really needed to go to the Titans. It’d been a while since he took the team on a training mission. And he’d remembered a very interesting pending mission on the Arcturus system. Arcturus, the _red_ -star of the Bootis system. The _giant red star_. For a mission that might take them a whole two weeks. Two weeks under a _giant red sun._

That should teach Kon to call names to his boyfriend.

He’ll make sure the message’s received.

But for now… He looked at the table “So, why are we mad at each other?” he said sitting down and putting his coffee in front of him.

“Same ol’, same ol’. _Big Bro_ ’s being a judgmental asshole” Jay said throwing real venom on the nickname and not bothering to look at either of them.

“I am not.” Dick cried indignant looking at Jay “I am merely pointing out you’ve been a shitty boyfriend and a worst brother.” He grabbed another fry before adding “You’ve even neglected your Hood duties, and Signal has been having to patrol your turf”

That was a surprise and Tim noticed it also brought Jay’s head back up. 

“Wait, Duke’s patrolling the Bowery?” Tim asked. Dick turned to him and nodded.

“What happened to the _training wheels_ program?” Jay asked. Tim wanted to nod. Duke’s been on a training program for the past few months, and although his advances were promising, he was still far from being Bowery-ready. Even Tim had trouble keeping up with it when he picked up his boyfriend’s turf, whenever he was out of Gotham.

“These last two days have been an all-hands on deck situation.” Dick said looking at Tim, apparently ignoring Jay “Two Face was gonna blow up the Twin Bridges, and then we realized it was a plot to blow up Midtown. Create Two Gothams. Last night we managed to stop him”

_… What?_

That was news to Tim. He’d been in the Manor the whole two days working on WE, checking on the Oracle network and worrying about Jay. He hadn’t noticed anything. Why had he not noticed anything? “What? Why no-one said anything” he asked.

“You’re on recovery.” _That means shit_. He thought, and he looked at Dick conveying the same message. It was an unspoken agreement that whenever one of them was down, they were still kept on the loop, in case something was needed.

“I could’ve run comms” he said.

Dick sighed and looked at him “You’ve been trying to escape and come look for _this one_ , for those same two days.” And Tim had to concede that point. But still…

Dick continued “B didn’t wanted you with access to any sort of equipment you could track him with and decide to go for him without back up. Apparently you didn’t needed the info, just the opportunity”

Tim suddenly realized why access to Oracle’s network had been so easy those last few days. He’d thought it was because Babs felt sorry for him and agreed to give him a side-view. But it had been a _monitor_ system, to show him what they wanted him to see… Or rather, to prevent him to see what they didn’t wanted him to.

He felt a little insulted by this treatment. But Jay decided to move the conversation forward before he had a chance to protest. “So, Bats took care of Ol’ Harvey and Duke draw the short stick.”

Dick simply shrugged “Something like that.” It was more likely that Bruce had prioritized them into his hunt for Two Face. Probably himself, Dick and Robin were on Two Face duty, while the Birds divided the city, and Signal got stuck with the part Babs’ Birds didn’t wanted.

The Signal.

Duke was becoming a great one amongst them. One of the few metas allowed to work under the Bat.

The only one to be trained directly by him.

Ever since he’d learnt about his power, Tim had wanted to snatch Duke out of Bruce’s wing. His Photokinetic retrocognition was a dream come true for a detective like himself and if Duke honed his already impressive intellect into puzzle-solving and in-situ assessment, he could quite easily become one of Gotham’s greatest detectives. Tim wanted to help him achieve that.

Tim had already launched a research at WE on the way his body processed light, and it was being studied into the development of new investigative gadgets. He smiled to himself thinking on the possibilities. Luckily for them, Duke had been more than happy to let them study his powers, and helping on the technological development. Although, to be honest, he wasn’t one for gadgets and tech. If Tim’s research into West Robinson High had been correct, he was more of a poetry buff; though he’d never shown that on the team.

Tim came back to the present and looked around the room and saw Jay and Dick ignoring each other, and sitting in uncomfortable silence. He followed suit and ignored them. Then a second shadow appeared on his periphery. _Great._ He took a sip of his coffee, the amount of coffee he’ll need to stay sane just doubled.

“And how did _you_ found us?” he asked not looking up from his cup. Dick and Jay straightened and Tim should mock them for getting too comfortable and ignoring their surroundings.

“Grayson’s trail was easy enough to follow” Damian’s voice came from the east, also the fire escape apparently. “Father wants us to report at once, and to take Drake back at the Manor.” Tim raised an eyebrow. Damian was dressed in casual clothes, so obviously it hadn’t been _Father_ Batman, but _Father_ Bruce; which was weird because Bruce was supposed to be at WE right now, and Damian didn’t look like he’d just came from WE, but from the Manor.

“I’m staying with Jay” he said. And Damian scrunched his nose and made that annoying clicking sound with his tongue that had the ability to send shivers down his spine. Though, frankly, after their conversation, the sound, although still unpleasant, didn’t ticked him off quite as much.

“tt. Are you deaf? I just relayed Father’s orders.” Tim wanted to smile at Damian. His insults now had a warm quality to them. Tim could now hear the annoyance on Damian’s voice as a banter, and not as an insult. He wondered if the rest of them could see the difference.

He shrugged and said “And I just told you I’m staying here. Go said that to _Father._ ”

“You can’t give me an order, Drake.” Damian said and instead of the traditional anger in the voice he’d get before, now it was the same faked annoyance. Perhaps some real too. Same words, different intonation. Different feeling. “I’m to take you back to the Manor.” He sentenced. And Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Or what?” he said. This could be _fun_.

“Are you challenging me?” Damian said with a raised eyebrow as well. Oh, this could be really _fun_.

“I thought you two had patched things up” And then Dick spoke. Tim saw how Damian’s spine straightened in a second and the annoyance and hurt came back, but this time for real.

“You _told_ him” He cried.

“Only that we’re mending our relationship” he said raising his hands, and Damian looked at him for a second before nodding a little. Then an idea occurred to him, and Tim grinned, and was happy to see how Damian seemed to get in a defensive stance almost immediately. “Nothing about the cute blushes or anything” he said with a teasing voice.

Damian’s cheek turned a beautiful pink in barely contained anger and his voice raised an octave as he screamed “ _You…_ I do not _blush_ you _, traitor_. Take that back…” which was so much fun because Dick turned and coo, actually _cooed_ at Damian.

Damian turned at him and pouted angry turning to leave the place, but Tim came closer to him.

“Jeez, chill out, _Gremlin_. It’s _Grayson”_ he said mimicking Damian’s voice when he mentioned Dick “he already coos over you every time you talk.”

Dick made a protesting noise and said “I don’t coo” and Tim and Damian turned with a raised eyebrow to look at him. Tim would be spooked by the similarity of their movements, it if weren’t because Dick just tried to say that _he,_ Richard Grayson, does not _coo_.

“Dick, you literally, just did” Tim said. And Dick looked affronted.

“No, I didn’t” he said.

“Yes, you did. And it’s _annoying_.” Damian sentenced.

“Yes, it is.” He and Jay said at the same time. And just like that, everyone was smiling, except Dick, who was pouting, but he would get over it in a second or two.

“So. Father wants you in the Manor.” Damian asked, and Tim rolls his eyes. “I’m staying with Jay” he reiterates and Damian’s about to reply when Jay speaks.

“No” Jay said coming to stand next to him “We’re both going. I’m going to patrol tonight, anyway. Might as well crash there too” Tim looked at him questioningly. True, it would be the most sensible plan, but Jay hates crashing at the Manor. He simply nods and Tim shrugs at Damian telling him he’ll go along with it.

“Great. So, what are we going in? Did you brought a car?” he asks Dick.

“No. I just came through the roofs.” He said like it was obvious.

“Me too” Said Damian. And Tim wanted to roll his eyes again. Seriously…

“So, all we have is the Ducati. The same one you came to _berate_ me for using and where I popped my stitches?” _How exactly did Dick expected to bring him back to the Manor?_

“You did _what_?” Damian asked scandalized. Apparently the little bird didn’t knew the whole story.

“Relax, Jay stapled him” Dick said with a voice that sounded like he didn’t think it was enough, but didn’t wanted to foster a fight again. Jay sighed and turned around “I think I left the Lexus in the garage last time I came. We’ll take that.” He checked a table next to the entrance, and fished some keys from a bowl.

“Great, I’ll drive” said Dick coming next to Jay and extending his hand, clearly expecting to receive the keys. “Like hell, you will” Jay said with a raised eyebrow and looking at him with a small smile like Dick was crazy.

“I’m the eldest” Dick said as if that somehow mattered.

“In summer, I go commando on the suit” Jay said in the same tone as Dick drawing a disgusted sound from both Dick and Damian. Tim just smiled and raised an eyebrow. He knew from experience that it was true. “What?” Jay said smiling at Dick’s face “I thought we were sharing useless facts.” He said. Tim laughed softly.

Dick sighed exasperated “Give me the keys, Jason. I’m driving us home.” He said like it was the end of the argument.

“Your pretty ass’s not sitting in my chair, birdbrain” Jay said avoiding Dick and starting to go down to the garage. Tim left after them and sighed at the idea of having to go down those flights of stairs again. Damian seemed to be the only one to notice his predicament and came to offer help without saying anything and Tim thanked him softly as Dick and Jay came with more and more creative ways to try to take/keep the keys.

Once they entered the garage, Damian, who was fed up with the fighting moved forward leaving Tim to walk the last three stairs alone.

“Cease your bickering. If you can’t agree on a driver, then I’ll drive” Tim raised an eyebrow at that and smiled at his brother. Both Jay and Dick looked at him for a second to see if he was being serious, and then at the same time answered him.

“Hell, no” said Jay bringing the keys to his chest and raising an eyebrow.

“Not a chance” said Dick putting his hands on his hips like the mother hen he was.

Tim looked at the scene bored. And then an idea came to his mind. He walked towards the car and when he was moving close to Jay he step a little closer to him and made a pained noise, grabbing his side. The reaction was instantaneous, Jay turned around and went to him, Dick shut up and turned to him and Damian started walking towards him. He gave a couple of steps making a show of controlling his breath, just a couple seconds more and…

Jay was within range and Tim moved in an instant, snatching the keys and turning around walking towards the diver seat. “I drive” he announced smiling at the three pair of eyes looking at him with different stages of glaring.

“Hey, that’s cheating” Jay said with a fury in his eyes. Tim just touched his boyfriend’s cheek and winked before channeling his best Bruce impression “Use your own situation to your advantage”. Jay just huffed at him.

“I call shotgun” Damian said standing on the passenger side door, waiting for Tim to unlock the car. “Tim, you shouldn’t drive. I really think I should…” Dick tried to say, but Tim interrupted him.

“I really think you should roll in your Ducati. It won’t stay in one piece very long out in the street.” Said Tim unlocking the car and getting into the driver’s seat, pointedly ignoring Jay standing in the way. Dick, indeed, turned around and went outside to bring in his bike.

Jay grumbled and moved to the other side, where Damian was entering the car. “I’m sitting here” Jay said moving Damian out of the way. “Hey” Damian complained, and Tim looked surprised as Jay took the seat next to him. _That’s just rude._

“What are you doing?” Tim asked pointedly causing Jay to turn and look at him. Tim glared as he said “Damian called shotgun”.

“Are you kidding me?” he said offended, but Tim just raised an eyebrow and Jay sighed resigned giving the seat to Damian who looked smug as he fastened his seatbelt. Grumpy Jay went to the back seat and sat behind Damian, sending daggers to Tim, who simply ignored him.

Dick entered the Bike, and then sat back, next to Jay. Tim started the trip to Wayne Manor, driving though the busy streets of Gotham City.

Tim was waiting on a red light when Dick’s spoke behind him. “Oh, look. The vegan milkshake place is open.”

He was pointing ahead to a nice place Damian had brought them a couple month’s back. They sold the most amazing milkshakes in Gotham, and Tim had to admit, they tasted even better than regular milkshakes. And they had a very diverse menu of flavors you could personalize.

“I could go for a milkshake” said Damian looking ahead. _Well, that’s one vote._

“Vegan?” asked Jay, and Tim remembered he wasn’t with them when they went. He knew Jay would love the place. He wondered if they could afford a quick detour on the way to the Manor. Hell, they could just send a message to Bruce and be done with it.

“They use almond, coconut and soy milk. They’re quite good.” Dick answered Jay. And by his voice he was also inclining towards stopping there. Tim wondered for a second and when the light turned green he decided.

“Oh, fuck it, I need the liquids.” He said and parked in front of the milkshake place.

They all went into the place and sat, ordering when a smiling waiter came to take their orders. Dick ordered some tooth-rotting sweet caramel-y thing; Damian an Oreo one, Jay a Lemon Pie, and Tim a Brownie Mix.

They started talking animatedly about anything, and Damian simply turned to the napkins and started doing origami figures with them. Tim was so focused on the conversation that he almost jumped when someone spoke behind him.

“You were supposed to report immediately.” Said a very familiar booming voice. Bruce was standing looking disappointed, flanked by Cass and Steph. Everyone froze and looked at him.

Dick was doing his best deer in spotlight impression, while Jay was just frowning at him ready to come back with a colorful expletive, no doubt. Damian looked up for a second and then decided to ignore them and come back to his origami. _Let Dick handle this_. Tim could roll with that.

Dick, seemed to sense the consensus because he started talking. “We are going to the Manor. We just took a small detour.”

“And by the radio silence, I assume your phones and communicators have all disappeared?” came the same disappointed voice.

“Here are your orders.” Said the waiter coming from nowhere and placing four large milkshakes in front of them, before, disregarding all survival sense, turning towards Bruce. “Hi, Welcome to Harry’s Natural Milkshakes, would you like to order?”

Bruce turned a little surprised at being addressed and was about to probably go down on the poor man, when a soft voice cut him.

“Can I have a Strawberry one?” said Cass, and with no sign of stutter sending Tim into an involuntary smile. She was getting more and more fluent by the day. Steph grinned at Cass and took the moment to look at the chart “I’ll take a Peanut Butter Mango mix” she said and brought extra chairs and put them in the table.

“God Steph, that’s disgusting” Tim said looking at her. _Mango and Peanut Butter_. That’s just asking for an upset stomach.

“It’s good.” She said offended “And it’s just poor manners to criticize other people’s choices, you uncivilized swine.”

“ _Swine_? Says the girl who just asked a PB-Mango monstrosity. Why don’t you ask if they have an _eggplant_ milkshake?” Tim said affronted.

Before Steph had a chance to think of a comeback a very deep, very disappointed rasping came from the side. Bruce was looking at them, leveling them with a glare. And then, the waiter, who apparently had balls of steel, or probably some social awareness problem just turned to Bruce with a smile and asked. “And, will the gentleman like something?”

Everyone just froze a second while Bruce’s glare turned to the waiter who just stood there with a compliant smile looking at him ready to write in his pad. For a whole second the world stopped while Bruce stared down the waiter.

And then, Tim saw the moment Bruce gave up. “French Vanilla” he said without looking at any of them and suppressing a sigh while he sat.

The waiter just took note, flash them all a smile and went to prepare the order. Jay was the first one to chuckle, and as a dam breaking, everyone was laughing.

Tim looked around the table smiling.

His family’s crazy, objectively _insane_.

He wouldn’t trade them for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone,
> 
> So. This is it. The end of this story. I know some of the story's a little OOC, but I wanted to end on a happy, kind of silly fluffy note.
> 
> As I said, This isn't the end of this Series; I have a couple ideas on how to continue, but don't expect any updates soon. They're pretty much just crazy ideas in my head. (Actually, I have a question for you; I'm thinking about writing something a little more explicit/mature, pretty much just smut and fluff. Would anyone like to read that?)
> 
> I hope we see each other in any future fics.


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